


Wild Shores

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-17
Updated: 2003-11-17
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Just back in the Pitts Brian has to deal with the consequences of what happened at the end ofBygones. Will his relationship with Justin be affected by it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Death is the only certain thing in our lives. This thought goes through my head as we stand in church, all dressed in black, faces wet with tears, and the minister talks about a person he’s never seen in his life. I know we’re here for the sake of Lindsay’s parents, but I never felt so out of place before. Linds wasn’t very religious, and Brian said she never entered a church, saying that they didn’t accept us anyway. 

 

I feel Molly’s hand squeezing mine, and glance at her quickly. She’s standing by my side, like my own private bodyguard, and I’m amazed once again how grown up she seems. There isn’t a lot left of the once adoring little sister, but I don’t really mind. I love her just the way she is.

 

As the minister is going on about what a precious being Linds was, I let my eyes sweep the room, wondering where are all the people came from. I know Linds had a lot of friends, but I can’t remember her having quite this many. A few of them are crying, a few sniffling. Only Mel stands there, stone-faced, her back ramrod straight. 

 

Forbidding is the only word coming to my mind. The hands-off aura surrounding her is so strong, everything bounces back from it. Her eyes are dry and clear, no red rims as one would expect them to see. 

 

“She looks terrible,” Mom whispers to me over Molly’s head, even though Moll’s almost her size already. “I wonder if she allowed herself to cry at all?”

 

I shrug, not sure how to react. What am I suppose to say? I could tell her that Mel lost it right after Linds died, but does it matter? Mom and Mel don’t know each other very well, so where is the point?

 

“She looks as if a breath could shatter her,” I hear Mom whisper again. “Poor woman. To lose her partner that way.” She shakes her head and dabs at one eye. Jeez! She didn’t even know Linds. She’s seen her a few times, but they’ve never been friends, were not even well acquainted. 

 

The minister goes on and on about a beautiful soul, a wonderful person, a woman who will be missed by her partner and her children, and I can understand why Brian didn’t come. I think he would’ve not been able to hold it together. He loved Linds, and she’s been such a constant in his life for so long, her death hit him like a brick on the head. When he got the news via cell phone from Mel I thought he’d faint on the spot. I needed almost an hour to get him to the hospital, where he insisted he wanted to go. I thought it was a bad idea – and unfortunately I was right. 

 

The moment we stepped out of the elevator, Mel tore into him, accusing him, screaming at him that is was his fault. I tried to step between them, but Brian simply stood there, taking the verbal blows without showing any emotion. When Mel was done and crying on Deb’s shoulder, he simply turned and left with me running after him. He didn’t talk for the rest of the day, just lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. I tried to coax him into drinking or eating but he refused with a shake of his head.

 

Finally, feeling in way over my head, I called Peter. He argued that he wasn’t the right person after our almost sexual encounter, but I insisted, knowing that Brian would trust only him. That seemed to work because he finally agreed to come over and managed to get Brian to take a sleeping pill. Then he sat with me for an hour and explained that Brian’s reaction wasn’t anything to be concerned of, that I should just let him sleep and be there for him. And that I could call him any time, if there should be any need.

 

“I still can’t believe Brian didn’t show,” Mom says quietly, shaking her head a little. Molly simply rolls her eyes at Mom’s cluelessness, and I have to hold onto myself not to let my annoyance show right here. She has no right to say such a thing. She doesn’t know how Brian has suffered since he got the news. Besides, it’s not any of her business anyway. Yet, I know that the others think the same. I saw Deb’s look when she realized I was coming on my own. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes made it perfectly clear what she thought of it. The only one who took it with a nod was Michael. But then, that’s what I expected from him. 

 

“He is the father of both her children-“ Mom starts again, and I interrupt her instantly. 

 

“Mom, not now, okay?” I say, glad when Molly squeezes my hand. 

 

My mother gives me a look that says that the subject isn’t over, but lets it go for now. The minister says his final prayer, and we all sing a hymn together. Afterwards he gives us his blessings and the whole thing is finally over. I sigh in relief and step out of the row, still holding my sister’s hand. It’s the same moment when I see someone standing in the shadows in the back. “Molly,” I turn to my sister. “Stay with Mom, okay?” When she looks at me in confusion, I whisper, “Brian is here.”

 

Her eyes widen, but she nods, “Okay.” She gives me a final squeeze before she releases my hand. 

 

He stands there, his hands in his pockets, his back leaning against the wall, with eyes so empty, it breaks my heart. I can’t believe he came after all, but he did, knowing very well that the moment Mel sees him could very well end with a disaster. She hasn’t contacted him ever since he left the hospital, and if it wasn’t for Deb, and Gus’ insistence to see him, Brian wouldn’t have seen his son the whole week. I think none of them realizes what Linds really meant to him.

 

“Brian,” I say quietly. 

 

“Hey,” he replies, his voice a little hoarse. 

 

“How are you?” I ask, already knowing that he isn’t well, but need to hear it from him anyway. Peter said I shouldn’t let him off the hook, that I should insist for him to talk to me, to express his feelings. And that’s what I’m doing now.

 

He shrugs, “Like shit.” He laughs, but it’s not a happy sound, “Her mother never accepted her daughter, and now she’s acting the heartbroken mom. But then appearances were always very important to her.”

 

I turn my head and see Mrs. Peterson cry on her husband’s shoulder, while he takes the condolences from friends. “Don’t you think they still loved her?”

 

He pushes himself off of the wall, “Then they had a strange way of showing it.” He pats the pockets of his jacket with nervous hands, then obviously reminds himself that he doesn’t smoke anymore. “God, I need a cigarette bad!” He laughs again, “Let’s go.” He pauses, “Or do you want to stay?”

 

“No, not really,” I reply. “Let me just tell my mom that we’re leaving.” He nods, and turns, slipping from the church the next instant. 

 

I make my way back to the front, and to my mother’s side. “Mom, I’m leaving.”

 

She looks at me, “But … what about the reception at the Petersons’s home?”

 

I shake my head, “I need to go. Brian is waiting for me.”

 

She snorts very delicately, “Brian.”

 

“He’s waiting outside,” I tell her. “He came.”

 

“Oh?” She says it as if she can’t believe it’s true.

 

“So the little asshole came after all.” Deb has obviously overheard us and comes to stand beside me. “How is he?”

 

“Not good,” I reply. “I need to go. See you later.” With a last wave I’m off, glad to escape this assembly of people who don’t have anything in common than Lindsay Petersen, and the half of them didn’t even really know her. 

 

Hurrying after Brian, I catch up with him at the next corner, where he leans against his car, smoking. I frown, “You said you stopped smoking a few years ago.”

 

He shrugs, carelessly flipping the half-smoked cigarette away, “So? One smoke won’t kill me.” He nods at the car. “Get in,” he says, then rounds the front and climbs in from the driver’s side. As soon as I close the door, he starts the car and starts driving, and only now I see pearls of sweat on his upper lip. 

 

“Brian,” I reach over, and tentatively put a hand on his thigh, glad when he doesn’t flinch. “Slow down.”

 

He seems to contemplate this for a moment, then takes a deep breath and does as I said. “She brought Gus,” he says after a second.

 

“Yeah.” I know he saw his son inside the church, but I confirm it nevertheless. 

 

He nods, but doesn’t comment. But I can see him blinking a few times, his knuckles on the wheel turning white.

 

“Brian, he’s okay. I think he doesn’t really know what’s going on,” I try to help, not sure if I can. But Gus really did look fine. 

 

“He’s almost six, Justin,” Brian reminds me unnecessarily. “At that age, children know. And Gus is incredibly smart.” I hear the pride in his voice at the words and they almost make me smile. Only almost though, because I know where Brian’s coming from. And he’s right, Gus is very perceptive of people’s feelings. At least as far as I can tell from the short time I’ve spent with him this past week. The first time Debbie brought him, he instantly climbed into Brian’s lap and stroked his father’s face. Deb and I both cried watching them together. 

 

“Maybe …,” I start softly, “it’s good that way.”

 

He frowns, “How’s that supposed to be good?”

 

“Well,” I lick my lips, knowing that I have to tread very cautiously now, “maybe he needs to go through this to … move on, in the end.” 

 

“So you think he should suffer through something as this fucking mass and the wake to get over his mother’s death?” Brian asks in a voice full of disbelief. “He should socialize with grandparents who didn’t give a fuck about him as long as his mother was still alive?”

 

“No,” I reply instantly. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just think that mourning is part of the healing.”

 

He smirks a little, but keeps his gaze fixed on the road, “Is that a hint?”

 

“No,” I shake my head. “Just because it could be right for Gus it doesn’t mean it has to be right for you, Brian. You’ve been talking with Peter – twice already. I think you’re doing fine.”

 

His smirks widens, “Thanks, counselor.” He’s quiet for a moment, then shakes his head a little, “I can’t believe Mikey didn’t come back for the funeral.”

 

“He wanted,” I tell him, “but Deb convinced him, he couldn’t do anything. I think she’s finally admitted to herself that in going away from the Pitts for a while he’s really trying to come to terms with his life.” I pause, then smile, “Carl was there though. He looked – sad.”

 

Brian snorts, “Unfuckingbelievable. He’s really pining away for Mikey. After the way Mikey treated him, I’d have given him a kick in his tight little ass.”

 

I raise my brows mockingly, “How do you know his ass is tight?”

 

That finally brings a laugh from Brian, and his fingers on the wheel relax, “You’re right, I don’t. And I don’t intend to.”

 

“Good,” I tell him with a smile, not trying to hide the smugness I feel. 

 

“Wipe that smile off your face, Sunshine,” Brian says, then sighs. “Jesus, I thought I couldn’t breathe in that church. I can’t believe Mel doesn’t talk to me, yet she acts as if everything’s fine with Linds’ parents.”

 

“I suppose it’s the shock. Mom said Mel looks as if she’d shatter any moment.” And I have to agree. I can’t remember having seen Mel worse before. Even though I resent like hell how she’s treating Brian, and have a very bad feeling we haven’t seen the last of it, I can also understand her up to a certain degree. There she was, waiting for her second child to be born, only to lose her partner the same night. I can’t imagine many things more horrible, and I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to go through it. 

 

And I’m not even talking about the void Lindsay’s death is going to leave with her friends and family. She’s been so much part of Brian’s life, just like Michael, and now they’re both gone. Okay, so Michael will come back eventually, but we all know that nothing will be the same. With Brian’s open words a week ago, their friendship has irrevocably changed. Michael had to bury a dream he’s harbored for so long, one that had become a part of himself. To say goodbye to that dream can’t be an easy thing to overcome.

 

Brian stops at a red light, and finally looks at me. “Where do you want to go?” 

 

“Huh?” Only now I realize we’re not on the way to the loft. 

 

“I can’t stay at home right now. You’ve got a place you want to go to?”

 

I think quickly, and then decide, “How about Mom’s house?” When he’s about to protest, I add, “Nobody is there. Mom’s at the Petersen’s house for at least a few hours. We have the whole house for us.” I reach into my pocket and smile, “And I have still the key.” 

 

After a short hesitation he nods and turns left. 

 

***

 

“Oh. My. God,” I pant, trying to draw a breath between Brian’s thrusts deep into my rectum. I know he had a lot of tension to release but I didn’t quite expect this. My hole is already burning from overuse, but Brian doesn’t seem to be willing to slow down any time soon. “Did you take Viagra?” I ask.

 

He laughs breathlessly and thrusts again, his cock hitting my prostate with full force. I cry out and tighten my hold around his neck. “No,” he slightly shakes his head, “I’m not going to repeat that thing before I’m at least fifty.”

 

I have to snigger despite my breathlessness, “I thought you weren’t going to mention that number.”

 

“Fuck you,” he growls, pushing deep, making me moan loudly. 

 

“I thought you were already doing that.”

 

He laughs again, then grits his teeth, concentrating on speeding up his thrusts. “Jesus. Fuck!” I shout.

 

“Exactly, Sunshine,” he replies and then comes with a deep moan ripping from his lungs, before he collapses on top of me, our sweat mingling between us. “God,” he breathes, burying his face in my shoulder.

 

I sigh, feeling his cock softening inside of me. “You’re insatiable. But I really don’t mind.”

 

“You’re gonna be sore for a few days,” he says, and I feel his smile against my skin. “But I’m not sorry.”

 

“Good.” I have to smile, letting my hands trail over his cooling back, the sweat turning sticky on it. “I hope you feel better now.”

 

“I’m dead,” he says, and his smile against my skin widens.

 

“Then I’m dead, too,” I tell him, feeling wickedly relaxed, and too tired to feel guilty because of Linds and Mel and all the grief that should surround us. 

 

For a while we say nothing, while our breathing slows and the day moves on. I’m not sure what time it is, when Brian finally rolls off of me, then props himself up on his elbow and looks at me. “There’s going to be trouble, Justin,” he says with a voice that’s very serious. “A lot.”

 

I sit up, tilting my head, “What are you saying?”

 

He shrugs, with his left shoulder, the one that isn’t supporting his body weight. “Just that it’s going to get ugly. Mel’s never liked me in the first place. She’s gonna do her best to keep the kids from me.”

 

I frown, “Can she do that? You’re the kids’ father.”

 

“But she has parental rights.” He sighs, the sadness I saw in the church back in his eyes, “I don’t know, I just don’t have a good feeling about this. And there are Linds’ parents. All of a sudden her mother’s discovered her grand-children. I’m sure they’re not gonna be happy having a gay daddy around.”

 

Feeling dread settle in my gut, I reach out and touch his shoulder, his skin cool now, but still sticky. “Gus loves you. He’s not gonna stay away from his Dada.”

 

“Maybe.” Brian rubs his face with his free hand, then turns and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to me. “I need a shower.”

 

I crawl over and kneel on the bed behind him, touching his back, “Brian, we’re gonna get through this.”

 

“You sure?”

 

I frown at the hopelessness in his voice and instantly move to the ground between his knees, facing him now. “Listen to me. I’m here with you. For the duration. I’m not gonna leave you just because things are getting a little rough.”

 

He laughs at that, and I’m shocked when see his eyes fill with tears. “Geez,” he sniffles, “you’re a piece of art, Sunshine. Are you for real?”

 

I smile, touching his face, “Yeah. Alive and kicking. And all yours,” I add with conviction.

 

“All mine, huh?” he says in an attempt to joke. It fails a little when tears run over my fingers. 

 

Almost overwhelmed with emotion I lean forward and kiss his slightly bruised lips. Instantly his arms come around me, and he holds me in a vise like embrace. I have problems breathing, but I don’t complain. I know he needs this, and in a way I need it, too. Plus, having Brian’s arms around me is always good.

 

“Don’t ever go away,” I hear him whisper, before he kisses me beneath my ear, his breath hot and moist like his face.

 

“I won’t,” I promise, holding him back. “I love you, Brian. I love you so much.”

 

I feel him nod against my neck, “I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

 

Strangely enough this means more to me than if he’d said the words back. Because it means that he trusts me. With his heart. With his soul. For Brian that’s nothing short of a miracle.


	2. Wild Shores

I know that Justin thinks crying is a way to relieve stress, to deal with grief. I don’t know if I share his opinion. Crying never did a lot for me. On the contrary, the one time Jack found me bawling in my room because the class hamster had died, he beat the shit out of me. I was eight, and I made a vow never to cry again. I haven’t really missed it since.

 

Peter shares Justin’s sentiments. He told me once, during our very early sessions that a lot of my problems originate from repressed feelings, from my inability to let them out in the open. I agree with him up to a certain degree, but until today I can’t understand how crying your eyes out is going to achieve anything. Aside from embarrassing yourself of course. 

 

“Mel looked terrible in the church.” Justin looks at me with big, serious eyes. They are dark today, here in the barely lit bedroom. Deep pools I want to sink in and never come up for air again. 

 

“I know,” I say, not really caring about the way she looked. I still have her words in my ears, they’re following me in my dreams. I should stay the fuck away from her children. 

 

Her children.

 

Gus.

 

The baby. 

 

The baby who hasn’t even been given a name yet. 

 

Baby-girl. That’s how Debbie refers to my daughter. Mel hasn’t decided on a name, and she sure as hell hasn’t asked me. Or let me near her for that matter. If it wasn’t for Gus’ tears and insistence to see his Dada, I’m sure she’d keep him away, too. I know I’m supposed to be understanding, but all I can feel is resentment. It’s not my fault Lindsay fell into a coma and died. My going away had nothing to do with it. 

 

Nobody asked me if I miss her. Everyone’s hovering over Mel, consoling her, asking her how she feels, but I lost Lindsay too. She’s been my friend for so many years, and she’s the mother of my children. I lost her, and nobody cares.

 

I look at Justin, his eyes still on me, scrutinizing, and loving at the same time.

 

No, not nobody. He cares. So much, it scares me sometimes. Can I ever be enough for him? He never gave up on me, always believed in me when nobody did, least of all myself. I’m scared to death that I will disappoint him, that his belief in me will be in vain, that I’ll fuck up – the way I always do. Even if my intentions are good, I’m still me. 

 

He startles me when I feel his hand on my arm, warm, soothing without even trying. I look up and our eyes meet. His are still dark, still serious, but they hold love and life and promises I want to grab with both hands and hold. “She won’t keep the children from you,” he says quietly, his voice like silk. Does he know that I’d be lost without him? Can I tell him? Is it fair to place such responsibility on a person? 

 

“How do you know?” I ask instead.

 

He shrugs a little, “She’s hurting, but she isn’t a bad person. And she loves Gus.”

 

Meaning that if Gus throws a tantrum she’ll give in. Strangely enough the thought makes me smile, “He certainly can throw a tantrum.” 

 

Justin rolls his eyes, “Don’t remind me. If I think about it, he’s a lot like someone I know.”

 

My right brow moves up, “And who would that be?”

 

“Fuck if I know,” he replies, and tries to hide his grin.

 

“You’re very lucky that I have to go to work today.” I climb from the bed and walk toward the bathroom. After a short stop at the toilet I open the shower stall, “What about you?” The water cascading down my body drowns his answer, and I close my eyes, letting the hot spray soothe my skin, if not my soul. Only one person can do that, not droplets of water, not drugs, nothing else, only Justin.

 

I shiver under the hot water, fear clenching my gut, doubts squeezing my soul. I never wanted this, never wanted to depend on anyone, never wanted to be vulnerable that way. It was all nice and safe; then he had to stumble in my life, and nothing was the way it used to be. 

 

Not that I’m complaining. 

 

I hear the shower open and close and then hands touch my back. 

 

Not complaining at all. 

 

They move slowly, in wide circles, touching my skin, reaching for my heart and soul. “I love you,” he whispers, his breath tickling my ears. Lips touch my shoulder, then my spine, and my heart weeps with the sheer joy of being close to him. I feel like being able to fall, knowing he’d be there to catch me. The lips touch the small of my back, move lower. 

 

Feeling as if I’m about to burst I turn swiftly and wrap my arms around him. Startled blue eyes find mine and there’s a question in them. Only now I realize that my heart isn’t the only thing weeping. “I’m okay,” I assure him hoarsely. 

 

He slowly reaches out, the tips of his fingers touching my cheeks, and he shakes his head. “You’re crying.”

 

“It’s … too much,” I explain, letting my palms feel the smooth skin on his back. “This … you and me … it’s …” I stop, not sure how to explain it, and exhale loudly. “I’m scared.”

 

“You don’t have to be scared,” he tells me, his lips brushing mine. “I’m here.”

 

“But what if you leave?” I finally voice my greatest fear. I can hardly believe I can do this now. It’s because of him, all because of him. A few years ago I would’ve hated him for it, for forcing me into this, now I … love him. God. I love him. So totally, so completely, I don’t know what to do. I feel like fumbling in the dark, hoping to find my way, not to fall.

 

“I won’t,” he says and there is no doubt in his words, nor is there any in his eyes. “You tried to push me away, more times than I can count. And I’m still here.”

 

“You’re still so young,” I remind him, willing him to understand how hard this is for me. 

 

“Only in years,” he replies, his eyes very serious. Yeah. He’s right. He’s lived through a lot, survived things others wouldn’t have. He’s the strongest person I know. So courageous, I sometimes can’t believe he’s real. “I’m never going to go away.” His voice is hoarse under the spray.

 

Emotions threaten to overwhelm me, and I take a deep breath. “You did before,” I remind him.

 

Sadness flickers through his eyes, and pain. I want to take the words back, but know at the same time that they had to be said. “Ethan-“ he starts, but I cut him off.

 

“Not Ethan.” Yes, he left with Ethan, but that’s not what I mean. He was still there, still around, still somewhere. No, I’m talking about the time when I stood there, helplessly watching the life flow from his body, red, hot. I swallow hard, “I saw you.” I force the words through a throat tight with remembered fear. 

 

A frown appears on his forehead, “Saw me?” He doesn’t understand for a moment, but suddenly his eyes change, they widen, grow darker. 

 

“I … can’t go through something like that again,” I confess. “Never again.”

 

He winces and only then I realize that I’ve grabbed his shoulders, squeezing hard. I let them fall away, apologizing with my eyes. He blinks, and I’m not sure if there’s water in his eyes or tears. But it doesn’t matter. He understands, nothing else counts. “I can’t promise you not to die,” he says softly. “You will have to live with that.”

 

“I know,” I whisper, “and it scares me to death.”

 

“Me too.” I see him swallow hard. “Don’t ever push me away again.”

 

I raise my hand and touch his hair, longer now, a little darker, the wet strands clinging to his skin, then let my fingers trail over his cheek, my thumb following the curve of his lips. “I love you, Justin,” I whisper. “ I love you.”

 

His eyes widen, showing disbelief at first, and then a joy so great, it makes my knees weak. And then his arms are around my neck and he presses himself close, “I love you so much,” he says urgently. “And I know you love me, too. I’ve always known that.” His hands frame my face, making sure I’m not going to look away now. “Your heart is safe with me,” he promises, and kisses me. 

 

I shiver again, wondering how this is possible when the water is still so hot. His lips are soft, yet demanding as they separate mine, his tongue hot and exciting, and so very familiar, as it probes gently into the depths of my mouth. 

 

I’m barely aware of the sigh coming from my throat, or the low sound coming from him, but I can feel his hands wandering down my sides towards my ass, pulling me close, squeezing. Our cocks brush, and our tongues do the same, as we both deepen the kiss. It’s probing and plunging, a sensual meeting, a sexual dance.

 

The blood rushes through my veins and I close my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me, as his lips leave my mouth, and start traveling over my neck to my chest, then stop at the right nipple, brushing it gently, before his teeth graze them and I moan out loud. I hear him chuckle. He knows me so well, so intimately, I shiver again. But not because I’m scared this time, but because it overwhelms me and warms me inside out. He is there, and he’s not going to leave. He is mine. And I’m his. 

 

“Yes, I’m yours. And you’re mine,” I hear him whisper, realizing that I’ve spoken my thought aloud before, but I don’t care. 

 

“Yes, you’re mine,” I tell him, opening my eyes, staring into blue so bright it blinds me. I smile, and then push him back against the wall.

 

He grins up at me, “You’re gonna be *so* late for work.”

 

I can’t help but grin back, feeling great all of a sudden, the fear strangely absent. I wonder if flying like a bird could feel like this, then dismiss the thought. Nothing can be like this. “Ask me if I care?” I kiss him. We’re both gonna be late, but I couldn’t care less.

 

*****

 

Cynthia grins knowingly when she enters my office two hours later. “Somebody got lucky,” she sing-songs. 

 

Giving her a look through what I hope are half-narrowed eyes, I let my tongue wander in my cheek, “And somebody didn’t.”

 

She sticks out her tongue, “Bastard. So,” she sits and tilts her head, “how is Justin?”

 

“Fine. On his way to become the next Leonardo.”

 

“Di Caprio?”

 

I roll my eyes, “Da Vinci. You like Di Caprio?” 

 

“He’s cute,” she says, then changes the subject. “What about … you know.”

 

I sigh, “And just when I managed to forget all about it for a moment.” She’s about to apologize, but with a wave I stop her, “As if. Did you get the address?”

 

She smiles and pulls a paper-slip from her pocket. “My friend says she’s the best.”

 

I raise a brow, “She?”

 

She shrugs, “You have a problem with it?”

 

I take the paper-slip and look at the address. “McKinley? She is Irish?”

 

Cynthia grins, “Seems so. Mike says she’s a shark. And very good.”

 

Releasing a breath, I rub my forehead, “I still hope I won’t need her. Justin insists that Mel’s still in shock, or mourning, or what the fuck ever. But I need to have a plan B if things get rough.” I once again stare at the address, “Can you make me an appointment?”

 

She grins again, “Done already. You can see her this afternoon. At four.”

 

I grin right back. Cynthia can be a bitch sometimes. But she’s worth her weight in gold.


	3. Wild Shores

“Mr. Kinney, how nice to finally meet you.”

 

I raise a brow and study the manicured hand held out to me before taking it. “Ms McKinley,” I return her greeting. 

 

She points at a chair in front of her desk as she slips into her expensive leather one. “Fiona, please call me Fiona.”

 

Her smile is sincere, but measured, her dark hair and make-up perfect, her costume shows real class. “Lagerfeld?” I ask, then add, “Brian.” She has to be around forty.

 

“Hmmm,” she makes, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “Armani, I guess.”

 

So we both like fine clothing. “It’s my favorite.”

 

“Mine, too,” she replies, and after a beat adds, “in men’s wear.” She takes a breath, then folds her hands in front of her on the desk, “I was told that this is about custody for your two children?”

 

Aha. The pleasantries are over. Right to the matter at hand, but I don’t mind. On the contrary. “Not yet,” I say, leaning back in my chair, crossing my legs. “I just want to cover my bases before it’s too late.”

 

“I see,” she nods, leans back as well. “Tell me about the problem.”

 

And I do. When I’m finished, I look at her. “That’s the whole story.”

 

“So the biological mother of the children died, and the biological father gave his parental rights her registered life partner.” She nods more to herself, then asks, “Were they legally married?”

 

“No,” I shake my head, watching her. I can almost see the wheels in her head turning. “Is that important.”

 

“Might be,” she replies, starting her computer, then presses a button on the left. “Michael, could you please bring us,” she pauses and looks at me with a raised brow. When I nod, she continues, “Two cups of coffee. And please ask Garret to join us for a moment. Thank you.” Turning back to me she explains, “Garret is my assistant. He’s usually working with me at cases like this one. Michael is my secretary.” She notices my raised brow and grins, “What can I say, I have a thing for good looking men.”

 

“Something we have in common,” I tell her. “So, how are my chances if Mel is stubborn?”

 

Before she can answer the door behind me opens and a man in his late twenties enters the room. He’s tall, around six foot, dark haired, well toned and dressed, and I instantly feel my groin tighten. What can I say, old habits die hard. 

 

“Garret,” Fiona says, standing up. I do the same and she introduces us, “Brian, this is Garret Davison, my assistant. Garret, Brian Kinney, our new client.”

 

“Mr. Kinney,” Garret greets me politely. His handshake is firm, his green eyes clear. To say he’s attractive is an understatement. To say he’s exactly my type is spot on. To say he’s interested would earn you a hundred points. 

 

I clear my throat, “Garret. Please call me Brian.”

 

He smiles ever so slightly, “Brian. Fiona already told me a little about the case. Although I only know the marginal facts.”

 

I nod, and we all sit down when Michael enters the room, carrying three cups of coffee on a tray. He places them in front of us, then leaves with a smile. “He’s in law school,” Fiona explains as soon as the young brunet has left the room. “Spends his holidays earning a little money on the side.”

 

I nod again, not really interested and add sugar to my cup, while Fiona explains the facts to Garret. He sits close by, but our knees aren’t touching. A few months ago I would’ve closed the gap between us, today, thinking of Justin and the morning we spent in the shower, the words we both said, I feel no need to. Garret is attractive, and yes my groin tells me he’s my type, but my mind’s strangely detached. If Justin knew he’d grin smugly, and I’d have to spank him. 

 

“Brian?”

 

Fiona’s looking at me oddly, and I try my best to wipe the silly smile from my face, I know that has to be there. I cough, “Sorry, I was just …” I sip from my coffee. “What’s the verdict.”

 

One of her perfect brows comes up, “We should leave that to the judge,” she says dryly, before taking a sip from he own cup. “I think your chances aren’t too bad.”

 

I grimace, “Is that supposed to make me feel good? Because, frankly, it doesn’t.”

 

“I’m your lawyer,” she replies, “not your feel good buddy. I’m here to tell you the facts.” She puts her cup down, and scrutinizes me for a moment before she continues, “Fact is that you gave your sperm to produce the children.” I wince, but she ignores it. “Fact number two, you signed your parental rights over. For both children. One of them is only a few weeks old. Legally you gave up the right to be in the children’s lives, but of course you did all that under different circumstances.”

 

“Meaning that Lindsay was alive when I did it?” I ask, wanting clarification.

 

Fiona nods, “Exactly. You were counting on the fact that Lindsay would be one of the responsible parents. Now she is gone. Melanie is the sole parent. The fact that she isn’t related by blood doesn’t count, but the fact that she is a single parent does. It could be the most important fact.”

 

“A judge could be convinced that children need two parents. Most judges agree with that standpoint,” Garret adds, looking at me directly. He has a beautiful mouth, my mind registers. 

 

“Plus, one of the children is a boy,” Fiona says on an afterthought.

 

My head snaps up, “What?”

 

She sighs, “I know it’s bullshit, but a lot of – mainly male – judges still think it’s not healthy to have a boy growing up with lesbian parents.”

 

My tongue wanders into my cheek almost on its own. “You mean they think lesbian mothers are going to corrupt the boy’s innocent soul.” 

 

Fiona shrugs, “As I said. It’s bullshit, but it could do the trick.”

 

Not that I like the idea, but I have to admit that Fiona certainly knows all the important things. Well, why not, she’s getting paid well enough. Not even Peter is that expensive. Thinking of him, I remind myself that I have to be in his office tomorrow. It was Peter who demanded the appointment. He’s sounded strange on the phone and I wonder what this is all about. Something must have happened, something I can’t put my finger on. 

 

“We will only use it if there’s no other way,” Fiona says, seeing my frown. 

 

I shake my head, “I don’t want to take the kids from her. Mel loves them. What I want is to see them. Gus and I are … close, I think. He loves me, and he’s used to seeing me regularly.”

 

“I understand,” she replies gently. 

 

“Just check out the possibilities,” I say. “That’s all I want. Justin thinks she’s still in shock and will come around, but I want to cover my bases.”

 

“Justin?”

 

That from Garret whose eyes seem to undress me. I look at him for a moment, then smile deliberately, my eyes never leaving his, “Justin is my … partner.”

 

“Your lover?” Fiona wants to know.

 

I turn my head, a little angry, “That’s what I said.”

 

“You said partner. Partner is a wide description. You and Justin … is it a serious relationship?” When I narrow my eyes, she holds up a hand, “It could be important. If you live in a stable, committed relationship your chances are a lot better.”

 

“Even if the relationship is with another man?”

 

“It means that you’re able to commit yourself. It’s still the general view that homosexuals do nothing but fuck around.” 

 

I smile at her, liking her more every moment. She’s nothing but blunt, and she doesn’t like to sugarcoat things. “I used to … fuck around,” I tell her, licking my lips. “But not anymore.”

 

“Good,” she smiles, shark-like, and I suddenly know why people fear her in court. “Keep it that way. It’s points on our account.”

 

“He will be so pleased to hear that,” I reply sarcastically and get up. Garret and Fiona rise too. “I’ll call if necessary.”

 

She nods, holds out her and again and we shake, “Do that. I’ll have all the important things ready then.”

 

“Good.” I smile, “Garret.”

 

“Brian.” His gaze wanders up and down, then stays on my face. “A pity.”

 

I don’t reply, but we both know what he’s talking about. Yes, he’s gorgeous. But compared to Justin he’s not even worth a second glance. Years ago that realization would’ve left me shivering with fear. Today it makes me feel like I’m the luckiest person alive. 

 

Isn’t life a funny thing?

 

*****

 

When things get bad, they rarely get worse, my grandmother used to say. I loved her a lot, but right now I feel like strangling her for the words. It seems the walls are closing in on me, in this house I used to love so much, I imagined spending the rest of my life in. 

 

“I don’t wanna,” I hear Gus protest, and try to block out his voice. The baby cries upstairs, but I ignore it, too. I feel instantly ashamed, but my limbs are leaden and I can’t make them move. So I simply sit and stare out of the window, into the same garden, and see the same fucking swing. I remember sitting there with Lindsay standing next to me, smiling, telling me that the insemination worked and that we’d be parents again in seven months. 

 

We were so happy then, so happy it didn’t even matter that Brian was the father once again, or that I would never experience what it meant to have a baby in my stomach. It didn’t matter anyway, because Gus is mine, and this new baby would be mine, too. We would share it the way we always did, we would laugh and …

 

“Do you need anything, honey?”

 

I blink and realize with surprise that my cheeks are wet and that there’s a sheen on my eyes as I look up at Deb, finding her concerned gaze. “No,” I reply, my voice hoarse and not quite sounding like the one I remember, “but thanks for asking.” I frown, “Where did Gus go?”

 

“I sent him to his room,” she tells me, sitting down beside me. She smiles gently, and I know she means well, but I just wish they would stop smiling at me that way. I’m not fucking dead. I’m still here. It’s Linds lying in that grave, cold, and dark, and alone. So fucking alone. I’m flinching a little when Deb’s hand settles on my shoulder, “He wants to see his Dad.”

 

His Dad? Gus Dad? Right, Brian. Shit! “Then take him,” I say, not really interested. Can’t they just all go and leave me alone. 

 

“You have no problem with it?”

 

“What would it change if I had?” I ask. “Nobody cares anyway. I should’ve known from the start that Brian Kinney would manage to worm his way into my son’s heart. After all, it’s what he’s famous for.” I laugh, and snort a little, wondering why it sounds not like laughter at all. “They all love him. Michael. Justin. And Linds. Linds loved him too.” I look at Deb, “And let’s not forget about you. You love him.”

 

“Honey, you should sleep. Take some of the pills the doctor-“

 

“I don’t need any fucking pills.” Roughly I push her hand away and stand up, walking towards the door and stopping there, “But don’t expect me to feel happy that my son misses his Dad more than his Mom.”

 

Deb presses her hand over her mouth and her eyes tear up, “Oh honey, this isn’t a contest. Of course Gus misses Linds. But he’s not even six years old. He doesn’t really understand what’s going on. His Mom is gone. And he now misses his father.”

 

Wanting to slap her, I simply turn away. “And what about me? I’m his mother, too. Am I not enough? Why am I never enough? Linds wanted kids. From Brian. So she had them. I wasn’t enough then either.” I gasp, hardly able to believe that I said that aloud. 

 

“And so you’re going to hate Brian for something he had no control over?” she asks.

 

Rage rises inside of me, dark, ugly, and walk back to her, “Don’t,” I warn her. “Don’t try telling me that he had no control over it. He fucking *loved* it! He loves the way everyone adores him. He’s a selfish asshole, but somehow he managed to pull Gus to his side. And now I’m forced to take up with him for the rest of my life. Thanks so fucking much, but allow me not to start saying prayers of thanks for that.”

 

Why on earth doesn’t anyone see what’s going on. Somehow that narcissistic asshole controls all our lives, and nobody seems to care. Instead they’re all worshipping at his altar. Even Justin, who should know better. After what Ethan did to him, shouldn’t he try finding a good guy for a change?

 

“Honey,” Deb starts, then breaks off, a little overwhelmed by my outburst. I don’t really blame her. She’s always had a soft spot for Brian even though she probably knows him best, and doesn’t take his shit. 

 

“It’s okay,” I tell her, “I probably should take two of those pills.”

 

She looks at me for a long moment, then smiles, “Why don’t you just lie down and I’ll bring them to you. And then I’ll take the kids and leave them with their father for a night?”

 

I want to say no, want to keep them here, and far away from him, but I feel too drained, too exhausted, to protest. “Sure,” is all I manage before climbing up the stairs. All I can think of are the pills, and that they’ll bring me something I need more than anything right now – oblivion.


	4. Wild Shores

Brian’s tongue leaves a wet trail on my neck and I moan loudly when suddenly the buzzer sounds through the loft. We both raise our heads and look at each other, probably wearing similar frowns on our faces. 

 

Brian’s gaze flickers to the clock and his frown deepens. “Who the fuck,” he exclaims and rising from the couch walks over to the door. “Yeah?”

 

“It’s me,” Deb’s voice can be heard. 

 

Brian turns his head and looks at me, then asks, “So? It’s late. What did Mikey do this time?” Without waiting for the answer her presses the release button for the entrance door downstairs. Running his hands through his hair, he sighs, “Shit! Just what I need tonight. Can’t anybody solve their own problems these days?”

 

There’s a sudden tension in his posture and, feeling a little alarmed by it, I stand up and walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his middle, but say nothing. I feel him take a deep breath, then his arms come around me, too, holding me for a moment, before he lets go again and stepping away from me opens the door…

 

to find Debbie on the outside, a baby in one arm, and a tired little boy at her side. 

 

“Dada,” Gus says sleepily, blinking against the light in the loft. He rubs his eyes, then holds out his arms to his father.

 

His gaze on Deb, Brian scoops him up, and absentmindedly kisses his cheek. Debbie hands the baby to me – the first time I’m allowed to hold Brian’s daughter – and lets out a deep sigh. “Mel’s taken some sleeping pills. She’s a wreck, and so I decided the kids should stay with their father for a change.”

 

“Dada,” Gus touches his father’s face, “I’m thirsty.”

 

Brian forces a smile on his face, and looks at his son, “You are, huh? How about some milk, buddy?”

 

Gus scrunches his nose, then nods, “’kay.”

 

We all walk over to the kitchen, and I hear Brian open the fridge. My eyes are on the baby in my arms, and I’m once again amazed by how much she looks like her mother. Gus is his father alright, but this little baby girl is so much like Lindsay it hurts. She’s fast asleep, her little rosebud mouth pursed slightly, and from time to time little smacking noises emerge from it. I can’t help but smile at her – this girl without a name.

 

“Is it bad?” I ask without looking up.

 

Deb sighs again, louder even this time, “She’s like a fucking ghost. Gus was crying just before, and she didn’t care.”

 

“Does she know the kids are with us?” Brian wants to know while keeping an eye on Gus who is slurping his milk. I feel a little jolt at his casual ‘with us’, I know it’s not the time, but I can’t help it. Each time he mentions us as an item my heart expands.

 

“Yes,” Debbie nods. “They can stay here, right?”

 

“Of course they can,” Brian replies, a little offended by her doubt in his abilities as a father. “I have this portable crib from back when Gus was a baby. And Gus can sleep with us.”

 

“Fine,” Deb seems satisfied. “I need to go home now. Michael promised to call later tonight.” She turns and walks to the door. There she stops and looks back at Brian. “You should talk to Mel one of these days.”

 

As Brian is busy helping Gus climbing from the stool, I answer in his place, “Deb, Mel isn’t talking to Brian. He tried time and again.”

 

“Then keep trying. She’s a mess. And she’s angry. But don’t let yourself be fooled by her attitude. She’s alone, too. She works full time and suddenly she finds herself stranded with two kids, and without a partner. Her whole life is turned upside down.”

 

Brian watches Gus disappear in the bathroom, then turns to Deb. “I thought Linds’ parents are around her all the time these days.”

 

A frown appears on Debbie’s forehead, “Mrs. Peterson is only interested in the kids. She’s on this guilt trip and uses Gus and the baby to relieve it. Mel is left out. The Peterson’s couldn’t care less that Mel’s falling apart.”

 

“What about her family?” I want to know remembering Mel mentioning an aunt and a cousin. 

 

Deb shrugs, “I haven’t seen any of them since the funeral. Mel has hired a babysitter for the day, but it’s too much for her. I’m afraid she’s going to fall apart if this goes on.” She pauses for a moment and walks back to Brian, stopping a foot away from him. “I know she’s behaving shitty and all, but she needs you.”

 

Brian snorts, “That would be a first. Melanie Marcus needing me.”

 

“Kiddo,” Deb puts a hand on his arm and smiles kind of a sad smile, “you’ve got Sunshine here. She’s got nobody now. Never forget that.” Kissing him on the cheek and giving me a smile, she leaves, closing the door quietly from the outside. 

 

“Dada?” We both turn at the sound of Gus’ voice, and Brian takes a deep breath before walking over to his son and crouching down in front of him.

 

“What’s the matter, Sonnyboy?”

 

“I wanted to sleep with Mommy, but Mama said I couldn’t because Mommy is gone.” His breath hitches a little, and his lower lip trembles, “Is she never coming back? Mama said she’s not coming back.”

 

I see Brian swallow hard, and have to blink to suppress tears welling up in my eyes. Brian’s struggling with the words, then rubs his neck, and I want to hug him in the worst way. But I can’t, not just because his daughter is still sleeping in my arms, but because this is a father and son moment he needs to solve on his own. So I just stand there watching them look at each other, Gus waiting, Brian struggling with how to act. 

 

Finally he reaches out and pulls Gus close. “No, she’s not coming back,” he whispers hoarsely. 

 

“Never?” Gus wants to know while tears start running over his face.

 

“No, Sonnyboy. Never. But she’s not really gone. She’s … in Heaven. Watching over you. And if you feel lonely or sad, you can always talk to her, and I’m sure she’s going to listen.” 

 

Before I can get all weepy with them, the baby in my arms suddenly lets out an earsplitting wail, reminding us that there are four people in the room and not just three. Gus reluctantly disentangles himself from his father, then looks at me with the serious eyes of a little boy. “She cries a lot. Sometimes all through the night.”

 

Brian and I smile at each other at that, and Brian takes his son’s hand. “How about I get you into bed, Gus,” he says, already walking in the direction of the bed, “while Justin takes care of your sister for another while.” He nods over his shoulder, “I think Deb brought stuff in the bag,” he tells me. “Probably a bottle and formula.”

 

I watch father and son disappear in the bathroom, then with a sigh turn to the kitchen and the bag Deb has placed on the counter. Trying to balance the baby in one arm I search through the contents until – to my pleasant surprise – I find two filled bottles, just waiting to be heated. Because I’m not sure if this is stuff for the microwave, I use hot water instead and put it in, while the baby wiggles impatiently in my arm.

 

“It’s okay,” I croon. I know she can’t understand a word I’m saying but maybe the sound of my voice will calm her for a while. She’s very small, even smaller than Gus was at his birth. Then I remember that she was born a little premature, so it’s probably no surprise. Her eyes are open now, slightly unfocused, and very blue. I know that most babies have blue eyes at first but I’m sure hers will stay that way. 

 

Again, she wiggles in my arms, and I talk to her again, “Hey, baby girl. I wish you had a name, you know. Baby girl sounds a little dumb.”

 

“Then let’s give her one,” Brian says from behind me. I turn and look at him quizzically. He shrugs, “Mel doesn’t seem to have any intention of naming her. So,” he pauses and smiles, very softly, very intimately, and says, “it’s your turn.”

 

Despite the wiggling infant in my arms, my mouth drops open, “What?”

 

Gus bounces down the stairs, only wearing his birthday suit and a big grin, and Brian laughs. “Hey, are you done?”

 

“I brushed all my teeth,” he informs his father. “Mommy showed me.” This time his lips doesn’t tremble at the mention of Lindsay, but a small frown appears on his face. It looks almost funny, a child’s face scrunched that way. 

 

Brian scoops him up and then looks back at me, “You know, Gus. Justin named you. What do you think if he named your sister?”

 

Gus seems to contemplate this for a moment. “’kay,” he says finally.

 

“Ah…” Very vocal, Taylor. But, honestly, words fail me right now. I know this is in no way binding, and knowing Mel she’s probably going to change the name in no time, but to see Brian look at me that way, wanting me to give a name to his daughter … it’s almost too much. I big lump is in my throat, and I have to blink again. If I’m not careful this night is going to turn into a crying feast. 

 

“Well, we’re waiting,” Brian says, grinning knowingly. Shit, he really does know me. Bastard. 

 

“This comes a little unexpected,” I reply, walking back to the stove to see how the bottle is doing in the hot water. Brian follows me and rummages through the bag, no doubt looking for something Gus can sleep in. “How … ah … how about Sara?”

 

I look at Brian over my shoulder and he stops in mid motion, his one hand still buried in the bag. One of his brows comes up, “Sara?”

 

“Well,” I try to explain while taking the bottle from the water, “Gus and Sara has a nice sound, don’t you think. And it’s a common Jewish name. It might please Mel.”

 

“She’s not exactly a practicing Jew,” Brian reminds me, not quite able to keep the sneer from his voice, even though he tries his best not to let his resentment show for Gus’ sake. There’s a lot happened that’s between him and Mel I don’t know about, and I’m sure there’s even more from the years I wasn’t here. Mel can be a bitch sometimes, but I’m also not stupid enough to think the whole problem is one sided. 

 

“I know,” I say gently, testing the milk on the back of my hand that’s still holding the baby. I can still remember the one time Mel tore into me because I was about to give Gus too hot milk. I understood where she was coming from, I was about to hurt her kid after all, but I’m sill convinced that she took it a little over the edge. And I’m not even talking about the way she raged at Brian.

 

His eyes meet mine and he sighs, then sets his son down and hands him a tee-shirt. I’m not sure it was meant to be worn in bed, but who really cares, especially tonight. Gus pulls it on inside out and giggles, which makes Brian laugh. “Go,” he says turning his son around. “On with you. Into the bed.” Gus giggles again, but doesn’t try to evade his father. As soon as Brian releases him, however, he begins to dance through the loft, singing something unintelligible. 

 

Even though I know it’s probably the wrong thing to do, I have to laugh at his performance, and ignore the evil eye I’m getting from Brian. It isn’t serious anyway, because I can see his lips twitch in barely restrained amusement. That very moment, the baby lets out another wail and I remember the bottle in my other hand. Slowly bringing it to her mouth, she latches onto it the moment it touches her lips, and sucks greedily. 

 

“Sara,” I hear Brian say almost wistfully, and look at him. He smiles at his daughter in my arms, “It fits. Mel will probably hate it, just out of principle, but I think it’s great.”

 

“Yeah?” I ask, ridiculously pleased by his reaction. Geez, I’m a lost cause where this man is concerned. And complete mush the moment he smiles at me. I just hope he doesn’t know the extent of my devotion or I’m lost. 

 

“Yeah,” he says softly, and I feel his breath on my neck before he kisses me there. “I love you, Justin,” he whispers, then, before I can reply, he turns to his son, catches him in mid-dance and carries him off into the bedroom. My eyes follow him while Sara sucks happily in my arms. And for this very short moment our world is perfect.


	5. Wild Shores

“Who are you?”

 

I hear my daughter’s surprised words, spoken with all the charm a teenager can muster, and with a sigh I put the magazine I’ve been reading to the side and get up from the sofa, only to find an unfamiliar woman standing at my doorstep. She wears conservative clothes, and her hair is short and gray. Something in her reminds me of someone, but I can’t put my finger on it. 

 

So I smile politely, something I’ve learned from early on, “Hello. Can I help you?” 

 

She shifts acting little uncomfortable, and I wonder if it’s because of the situation or that a teenager is staring at her. So I put a hand on Molly’s shoulder, “Why don’t you go upstairs for a while, honey?”

 

Her head turns upward, “Why do I always have to go upstairs?” Our eyes meet and with a sigh and a shrug, she turns away, mumbling something about her not being a kid anymore.

 

“Mrs. Taylor?”

 

“Yes?” I turn back to the woman at the door.

 

“You don’t know me, but you …,” she coughs, even more uncomfortable now. So it’s not been Molly, “you know my son.”

 

I tilt my head, trying to figure out who her son might be, “I do?”

 

“Yes. My name is Joan. Joan Kinney.”

 

Joan Kinney? Brian’s mother. Yes, there’s definitely some resemblance. The way she holds herself, the way she slightly tilts her chin when she speaks. Still, I don’t have the slightest idea why she came. “Yes?”

 

Her palm moves over the front of her stiff blouse and she licks her lips, “I … I understand your son and my son are … a couple?” The last word leaves her mouth with such strain, it has to hurt her vocal cords. 

 

“Yes,” I confirm, not quite sure where this is heading. Justin once said that Brian’s mother was a horrible bigot. And I never paid attention in church. So we’re certainly up for a great start. I sigh inwardly, then force the smile back on my face, “So, is there anything I can do for you?”

 

“Yes … actually there is,” she admits after a short hesitation. Her eyes are everywhere but on me, and I can just feel she wants to be anywhere but here. 

 

“Well,” I take a step back, “why don’t you come in? We can be more comfortable in the living room. Can I get you something?”

 

“Thank you very much, but no,” she declines stiffly, obviously afraid to intrude on me. “I just need to talk to you.”

 

We walk into the living room and I offer her a seat which she takes cautiously as if expecting the cushion might jump at her any moment now. She holds her back ramrod straight, and folds her hands in her lap. When I sit down as well, she takes a deep breath, obviously steeling herself for what she’s come in the first place. And here I thought the day couldn’t get any worse. After having been awakened by a call from Craig, who had heard about Justin moving back in with Brian, I was certain my daily dose of ‘things-Jennifer-hates’ had been given to me. Quite obviously not.

 

“Mrs. Taylor … this is very hard for me,” she apologizes. 

 

“Take your time,” I offer, even though I wish she would just let it be and leave. She’s certainly not the only one feeling uncomfortable with the situation.

 

“You have to know that I’m a very religious person. I’m Irish and my family is Catholic all the way.” She looks at me, her eyes pleading for understanding and I nod, not understanding at all. I still have no idea what this is all about. She nods too, somehow content with my reaction, and continues, “A few weeks ago, your son came to my house.”

 

“Yes, I know.” And I do. Justin told me he went to see Brian’s mother when he couldn’t find a trace of his current partner in life. 

 

Mrs. Kinney nods again, her finger playing nervously in her lap. “I see,” she says, heavy sadness in those two little words. She smiles a faint smile, “I suppose the relationship with your son is good?”

 

How am I supposed to answer this? A few weeks ago I would’ve said yes, wholeheartedly. Today, who knows? So I just say, “I love my son.”

 

Again she nods, “That’s what I thought. And you accept his … ah … being different.”

 

It’s not a question, but I still feel inclined to comment on it. “My son is a very smart, very talented young man I’m very proud of. He also happens to be gay. Does it bother me? It did. When he told me he was gay I tried to tell myself that he was too young to know. That he was just experimenting. My husband was worse. I think until today he hasn’t really accepted Justin the way he is. Me? I’m saddened by the thought that my son will probably never have children of his own because I think he’d be a wonderful father. Beyond that,” I shrug,” … if he prefers to be with a man, that’s his choice, not mine, to make.”

 

She laughs ever so slightly, shaking her head in what I can only understand as amazement, “It’s remarkable.” When I laugh, she shakes her head again, “No, it really is. How can you be so … so,” she waves her hand in front of her face, “so accepting?”

 

“It’s either accepting our kids or losing them,” I reply easily, having accepted the truth a long time ago. “Justin is Justin. His being gay is part of what or rather who he is. If I love him I have to love all of him.”

 

“But it’s so hard. I talked to my minister, Reverend Tom, and he … he said that God made us the way we are. That who we are is meant to be.” She sighs, “But the bible makes it clear. Sodomy is a sin.”

 

Sodomy? I almost laugh out loud. This sounds like something coming from a nineteenth century novel. And because I’m not sure what to say, because her theory is too far from my personal universe, I reach out and touch her hand, holding it even as she flinches, “Do you love your son?”

 

“Love.” She says the word wistfully, as if it’s a completely unknown term for her. “I tried to love him. When Brian was a small boy he was the sweetest child. We were … close. His father destroyed everything.”

 

Or you did, I think, by ignoring what was going on. By not removing your son from your husband’s influence. But I say nothing of it. She isn’t in any condition to hear that right now. “From what my son told me,” I say, “Brian and his father didn’t get along well.”

 

She laughs harshly, “That’s the understatement of the century. Jack, my husband, was a cold and unfeeling man who never should’ve had children. We met when I was very young. I was …” her head comes up and her eyes seem to plead for understanding. In response I squeeze her hand and she gives me a grateful smile, 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything. A coffee?”

 

She shakes her head, “No, thank you. Anyway, I was very young and he was very attractive. And he could be so … such a charmer. I fell for him and got pregnant right away. With our families we had no other way but to get married.” Again she looks at me, her eyes wide and incredibly sad. They’re a lot like Brian’s, I realize all of a sudden, even though they don’t have the same color. 

 

“Being catholic is very important to me. So I … I had the duty to stay with him. That’s what I promised in front of the lord.” Again she smiles that sad, helpless smile, “In our wedding night, he went out and got drunk.”

 

“I’m sorry,” is all I can give her, because, frankly, I don’t know what else I could say. What can you tell a woman who put her church above her own well being, above the happiness of her children? And who went through hell in the process. 

 

“Claire, my daughter, we don’t have the best of relationships either, but … we get along. She’s divorced.” The way she says it, tells me that she’s given the matter a great deal of thought. “I was very angry with her for … but maybe … she did the right thing.”

 

Before I can reply I hear the key turning in the front door, and as soon as it opens I hear a boy’s voice chattering happily, while a baby wail sounds through the house at the same time. 

 

“Mom? Moll?” Justin asks into the emptiness of the hallway. “Are you there?”

 

“Justin!” Molly cries happily, flying down the stairs. “Hey Brian. And who is the little cutie?”

 

“That’s Gus. He’s Brian’s son.”

 

As soon as the words are out, Joan’s head snaps up and she looks at me with a mixture of alarm and surprise. “Brian’s son?” she whispers. “Brian has a son?”

 

I nod, not able to hide my own shock, “You didn’t know?”

 

She shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Pressing her hand in front of her trembling lips she mumbles, “Oh my God.”

 

It has to be quite a shock to find out you’ve got a grand-child you never heard about. But somehow I don’t manage to feel pity. It’s her own fault she missed out on all that after all. 

 

“Mom is in the living room,” I hear Molly say. “With your mom.” The last sentence was obviously directed at Brian, because for a moment silence reigns. 

 

Then I hear Justin’s voice, “We can go, Brian. This was a dumb idea to begin with.”

 

“No.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I stand, forgetting about my guest for a moment, and walk into the hall. “Justin, honey. Brian. Please, stay.” I reach for my son, and touch his shoulder, giving him a smile and willing him to understand. This is his home as well as mine, and he’ll always be welcome. 

 

“Jennifer,” Brian says, forcing a smile on his handsome face. I always thought a smile made him devastating, but today it barely distracts from the alarm in his eyes, before they harden, and the smile vanishes. “Justin,” he says calmly, “can you and Molly get the kids upstairs?”

 

“Brian,” my son protests, but the older man silences him with one look, and Justin sighs. I wonder how he does that. With me, Justin never followed orders. But maybe that’s what love does to you. 

 

With a nod, Justin takes Gus’s hand. Molly is holding the baby now and cooing. Maybe one day she’ll be a mother too. Before he leaves, my son rises up on his toes and kisses Brian’s cheek. The gesture is very intimate, very loving. “Just call if you need me,” he whispers. Then he is gone, and the kids and Molly with him. 

 

Brian’s gaze finds mine for a moment, before he takes a deep breath. “Well, let’s face the dragon, shall we?” It’s meant to be funny, but I have no problem recognizing tension in him, the dread of meeting his own mother. Thank God Justin and I never came to be like this. I couldn’t bear if we treated each other that way. 

 

“Mom,” Brian says as soon as he enters the living-room. “I thought you were constantly praying for my soul these days.”

 

Joan flinches at his words. With any other woman I would’ve tried to defend her, but in this case I find myself on Brian’s side. It’s a strange feeling. I never was on his side before. “Brian,” the older woman chides, “do you always have to mock my belief?”

 

Brian’s right brow comes up. What I learned to recognize as a sign of amusement, is only a poor imitation of the sentiment today. There isn’t amusement in his eyes. They’re cold and hard, and unforgiving in a way that makes me wonder what really happened between those two. Ignoring her words, he asks, “Or is there some other innocent kid running around accusing me of molesting him?”

 

She flinches again, and this time also flushes. “Brian, please. I’ve come to … talk. I’m trying to understand.”

 

“What?” he demands. “What do you want to understand? I fuck guys, or rather one guy these days. There’s nothing to understand. Take it or leave it. Oh wait,” he mocks, “you already did that, right?” 

 

“Brian, maybe you should listen to her,” I hear myself say.

 

He takes a deep breath and turns to me, “I’m really sorry, Jennifer, that you had to watch this. But I’ve listened to her far too much already. There’s nothing my mother and I have to say to each other. Justin thought you might want to see the children, so-“

 

“Children?” Joan’s shocked question interrupts his words.

 

“Yes, children,” he tells her with no warmth in his voice. “Imagine that, faggots can have kids, too. I have two. Your grand-kids, mom. How does it feel to have to grand-children you knew nothing about? No, sorry, I forgot you don’t feel.” With that he turns and is almost out of the door, when his mother’s voice stops him.

 

“Brian, please, wait.”

 

Keeping his back to her, he asks, “What?

 

“You’re still my son,” Joan tells him, struggling to keep her voice even. “I gave birth to you. I carried you inside of me for nine months. You’re my flesh and blood. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

 

He laughs harshly at that, not turning to her, “The problem is, mom, you forgot about it a long time ago.” And then he walks out of the room, not bothering to wait for her reply. 

 

From the hallway I hear Justin’s concerned voice, “Brian. Brian, are you alright?” 

 

“Where are the kids?” his lover asks.

 

“They’re okay. Moll is looking after them.”

 

“And that’s supposed to assure me?” Brian makes a lame attempt to joke, but fails miserably as his voice cracks. “I’m sorry, I need to get out of here,” he tells my son.

 

“Then we both go.”

 

“No,” Brian replies. “You stay. I can’t be around the kids right now. They don’t need to see me like this.”

 

“Brian-“

 

I hear the door open. “I’ll be okay, Sunshine. Don’t worry,” Brian says, then closes the door behind him. A moment later a car starts and drives away. 

 

Another moment later, my son joins us in the living room. Ignoring me, he instantly turns to Joan. “What did you say to him?” he wants to know, his voice sharp and demanding. 

 

“I … I …”

 

“She didn’t really say anything,” I tell him, seeing that Brian’s mother is in no condition to answer the question. 

 

“She must have. He was so upset.” Justin’s eyes shoot daggers at Joan Kinney. “You had no right to come here.”

 

“She came to talk, honey,” I try to interfere, not quite sure why I’m doing this in the first place. This was supposed to be a nice, relaxing day off, and now it’s turned into something entirely different. Instead of watching television I’m following a family dram in its purest form. I’ve got to say I’d have preferred the television.

 

“About what?” Justin wants to know. “I went to her when Brian was missing and she didn’t even care. So what did she come about?”

 

“I … wanted to talk to someone who maybe know what I’m going through,” Joan replies. “He is still my son.”

 

“Newsflash,” Justin says sarcastically, “he’s been your son all along. You just preferred to forget all about it. Did you really think you could talk to my mom and all problems would miraculously disappear? You’ve hurt him, Mrs. Kinney. He is your son, and you turned your back on him, worse, you were ready to believe your son was a monster.”

 

“Well, John-“

 

“John is a little lying piece of shit,” my son spits, and I feel so proud of him. I see his fierce eyes, the way he’s defending the person he loves, no matter what. He’s a truly remarkable man. “But of course you believed him, because, let’s not forget Brian’s a faggot and that makes him a child molester, too. You are one of the reasons Brian’s dealing with all that shit in his life. You are his mother, you should love him. And you say you’re a Christian. You say he’s a sinner. Mrs. Kinney, you’re the worst sinner I know.”

 

“I just want to –“ Joan tries, but Justin interrupts her.

 

“It’s too late,” he says wearily. “If you really want to show your love, stay the hell out of his life. He doesn’t need this shit right now. He’s got enough to deal with.” With that he walks out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

 

Joan stands in the middle of the room, shell-shocked and helpless, her gaze finding mine with a silent plea. I wish I could help her, but find myself unable to. How can I when I can’t even feel pity for her?


	6. Wild Shores

My hope to find some kind of refuge with the kids at the loft is blown to pieces the moment we step from the elevator. Molly is holding Sara, while Gus pulls his hand away from mine when he sees who’s waiting for us in front of the door. 

 

“Mama,” he cries happily, launching himself into Mel’s waiting arms. Holding him tight, she sends me a murderous glare over her son’s head. “Where is he?” she hisses.

 

Deciding to play dumb for a change, I ask, “Who?”

 

Her eyes narrow to slits and I wonder if in a minute I will drop dead from that look. “So he left you with *his* kids?” she asks, not really expecting an answer from me. 

 

“He didn’t leave them with me,” I grit out, more than just annoyed with her attitude. I used to like Mel a lot, loved her even, and I really appreciated her help with Hollis, but ever since Linds ended up at the hospital, she’s barely recognizable anymore. I know, I told Brian that we had to cut her some slack, and I really believed we should, but seeing her now, I’m not sure I’m right.

 

“No?” Her brows come up, “Well, from where I’m standing it certainly looks like it.”

 

“Mama?”

 

Becoming aware of Gus following our argument, I look at Molly. “Can you get the kids inside for a moment?”

 

For a second Mel looks as if she wants to disagree, but then she takes a deep breath and nods. I take that as a good sign. As soon as Moll and the kids are inside, however, she starts on me, “I can’t believe this! One night, one lousy night he’s supposed to take care of the children, but instead of watching them, he takes off like some … some-“

 

“Stop right there,” I interrupt, more than angry now. I’m furious with her, and all the people who always seem to assume things where Brian is concerned. They know shit about him, and yet they judge him without a second thought. “Brian didn’t just leave the kids with me. There were circumstances-“

 

“Fuck the circumstances,” she shouts, not waiting for me to finish my explanation. I really hate when people do that. “This is just *so* like Brian,” Mel carries on, starting to pace the floor in front of the loft. “He’s never going to grow up. He’s irresponsible. I’ve talked to Linds about this time and again, but she wouldn’t listen.” She stops, takes a deep breath and looks at me with eyes so hard and cold, it makes me shiver, “Well, she’s not here anymore. Gus and the baby are my responsibility now. Brian couldn’t wait to get rid of his parental rights, so I’m giving him what he obviously wants. The kids will be out of his life for good.”

 

Shock radiating through me, I need a moment for the full meaning of the words to settle. Mel is about the tear open the door to the loft when I stop her. “No.” It’s all I say, and frankly, my throat is so tight, I couldn’t have managed anything else.

 

But she seems to understand, because she stops in mid-motion, and turns slowly, her features tightly controlled, “What?”

 

“I said,” I reply, glad my voice is working again, “no. Brian’s not going to give up his children.”

 

Her eyes narrow even more than before, “Newsflash, Justin. It’s not his problem anymore. He gave them up with two signed papers.” She takes another deep breath, her voice a little friendlier, “Justin, this has nothing to do with you. Please don’t take this personally.”

 

I laugh, harshly and bitterly, “What? You’re about to take my lover’s children, children he loves more than anything I might add, and I’m not supposed to take this personally? Are you nuts?”

 

“Justin,” she shakes her head, almost pityingly, “I’m sorry you’re getting tangled up in this mess. I know you care for Brian-“

 

“I love him,” I interrupt, looking at her squarely. “And he loves me. Not that it’s any concern of yours, but we’re going to live together now. Things have changed.” Not that I really know they have. Brian and I still haven’t really talked about us. But I’ll be damned if Mel thinks she can just waltz all over us. 

 

Again she gives me a smile full of pity, as if she’s thinking I’m still that insane, delusional kid who’s dumb enough to fall for Brian Kinney’s evil ways. Do you have any idea how annoying that is? Apart from the fact that I’m all grown up these days, I more than anything hate when people think Brian’s some kind of devil incarnate. He had a lot of shit going on in his life, and given all that he’s turned out remarkably well. 

 

“Justin,” Mel sighs, and that annoys me even more, “I know … I really don’t want to destroy your dreams, but Brian’s not going-“

 

“Don’t tell me what Brian’s going to do or not,” I say loudly, getting right into her face. “You know shit about him. You never cared for him, or what he went through. All you cared for was your own little petty jealousy because Linds loved him. You claim to love Gus? And the baby? You realize, even if you hold the legal papers, they’re still 50% Brian Kinney, right? And one day they’re going to ask you about their father. What are you going to say to them? That you prevented him from seeing his own children?”

 

“I’m not preventing him from seeing his children,” she says stubbornly. “It’s his own fault. He never wanted Gus. Do you know that Linds got him to give his sperm while he was high. Later he couldn’t back out of it. You were there the night Gus was born, you know that he was more interested in fucking … you, than in his own kid.”

 

“Yes, I was there,” I say softly, fond memories surfacing before my inner eye. “I remember a man who was deeply moved to see his son. I still can see him holding Gus, I think it was the moment I fell in love with him. I will never forget his face. It was so full of wonder.” Mel snorts at that and I straighten, “Whatever made him donate his sperm, there’s one thing I’m certain of. Brian loves Gus. And he also loves Sara.”

 

Shit! 

 

Mel’s eyes that have softened for a moment, flare with new fire. “Sara? Since when does my daughter have a name?”

 

“We were kind of tired calling her baby girl,” I reply, not wanting to sound as if I’m defending our decision. Mel didn’t give her a name, so we did. She’s Brian’s daughter. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

 

“It wasn’t your place,” she hisses, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “She is my daughter.”

 

“And Brian’s,” I remind her, lifting my chin. Damned if I give her an inch. 

 

“Only by accident,” she snarls, and is about to open the door to the loft when a voice stops her cold.

 

“No, because your wife wanted me to be the father. And that’s your problem, Mel.” Brian had used the stairs and neither of us heard him. He takes the last two, and then stops. He looks awful. His face is drawn and his eyes are bloodshot. He was gone for hours and I have no idea what happened. Did he go to the baths? Strangely enough I don’t care. All I care for is that he’s still hurting. That’s what his eyes tell me. Years ago I remember being amazed at how well he hid his feelings. Now I seem to be able to read his eyes like in a book. But right now I wish I couldn’t. There’s so much pain and hurt in them, all I want is to take him in my arms and make it all go away. 

 

But that’s not an option right now. Instead we have to deal with Mel, who doesn’t give an inch. Strange, I never realized how much hatred she had inside of her. Or maybe it’s just now, after Lindsay’s calming presence is gone, that her true feelings show.

 

Melanie whirls around, getting right into Brian’s face with the movement, “Don’t you dare talk to me about Lindsay. You didn’t give a shit what happened to us.”

 

“That’s not true,” Brian replies tiredly, running a palm over his drawn features. “I loved her, Mel. She was one of my oldest friends. I miss her.” 

 

“You do?” Mel taunts, and I wonder if she’s lost her grip on reality now. That’s the only explanation for her behavior. “So, tell me, Brian. If you loved her so much, the way you claim to do, where were you when she needed you? When she was in that hospital bed fighting for her life, you preferred to run away instead of staying at her side.” Her eyes flicker to me, then back to Brian, “But then, it didn’t come as a big surprise. You have a long history of running instead of staying.”

 

It’s a low blow, and Brian reels from it as if it had been physical. He flinches visibly, but a moment later has himself under control again. “Why don’t you just go, Mel?” he asks, and with alarm I realize his hands have started to shake again.

 

“What? Can’t stand the truth?” Mel wants to know. “Must be hard to finally see what sort of shit you are.”

 

“Stop it,” I interrupt, getting bodily between them. Brian doesn’t look like as if he’d be able to defend himself even if he wanted. He just stands there, his eyes dull, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. “Brian is right. Take the kids, Mel, and just go. This isn’t the time for that kind of conversation.”

 

She stares at me for a long moment, then turns back to Brian and rises her right forefinger. “This isn’t over, Kinney,” she warns, then opens the door and disappears inside of the loft. 

 

The moment she is gone, Brian slumps against the wall and I rush over to him to keep him upright. “Brian?” I ask alarmed.

 

“I’m okay,” he says, but his voice sounds far from steady. “Don’t worry.”

 

“You’re not fine,” I chide him gently. “You look like hell.”

 

That brings a low chuckle from him, “Thanks so much.”

 

I reach out and cup his face, “Where have you been?”

 

He closes his eyes for a second, then looks at me, “I walked. I don’t know how long.” Again he laughs, but this time it’s bitter, “I don’t know why my mother still gets to me. I should be over it by now.”

 

“She’s still your mom,” I tell him, rising on my toes and kissing him softly. “It’s the same with my dad.”

 

Our eyes meet and he nods, his dark orbs serious and full of understanding. How people can say he’s unfeeling and cold is beyond me. But maybe I just know him so well by now. “I always promised myself that my children would know me. That they would know that I loved them.” 

 

“And they will,” I whisper urgently, holding his face between my palms. “Gus loves you so much.”

 

At that Mel appears in the doorway, holding the baby, Gus beside her. When Gus sees his father, he runs over to Brian and they hug. “Hey, Sonnyboy,” Brian says hoarsely, holding his son close. “See you soon,” he promises.

 

“Yeah,” Gus pulls back and nods, then allows his mother to take his hand and they step into the elevator. 

 

Brian and I watch them as they disappear from our view.

 

*****

 

An hour later Brian and I sit on his sofa, untouched glasses of whiskey in front of us, some stupid movie flickering on the television screen. I had to force some food into him after Mom picked Molly up, then he went into the shower and stayed there for twenty minutes. Now we simply sit here, we don’t talk, just sit there, our fingers entwined. Finally Brian breaks the silence.

 

“When Lindsay asked me to become the father of her kid I thought it was a joke,” he says softly, his fingers tightening around mine. “But she got me at a weak moment, and I’d said yes before I knew what I was promising.”

 

“And a deal is a deal, right?” I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood a little. Not that I think it’d work, but a try can’t hurt, right? 

 

Brian chuckles a little at that, “Yeah, sort of.” He pauses for a moment, then takes a deep breath, “So I jerked in this cup and forgot all about it. I made myself believe that whatever was growing inside of her belly had nothing to do with me. She had this butch partner in life, who probably would be a much better father than I could ever hope to be. But the longer it went on, the more Linds showed, the more I … wanted to be a father.” Again he pauses, then turns his head and looks at me, “Does that sound strange?”

 

I smile, loving him so much this very moment, I feel as if I’m about to burst. “No, not at all. You know, from time to time I’ve thought about it. What if Daphne wanted a kid and asked me. How would I feel?”

 

Again he chuckles, “The kid from hell, huh?”

 

I laugh, and nudge his shoulder with mine, “It would be the smartest baby Pittsburgh has ever seen.”

 

He grins, “Given the average IQ of the population of this city, it doesn’t say a lot.”

 

We both share a laugh at that. “I had 1500 on my SATs,” I remind him.

 

“And you’ll never let me forget out it either,” he shoots back, pulling his hand from mine, and wrapping his arm around my shoulders instead. 

 

“Well, what can I say. I’m a genius,” I joke. “You’ll have to live with it.” We share another moment of silence, then I ask, “So you just walked around?”

 

He looks at me, his eyes scrutinizing mine, then he nods, “Yeah. I thought about going to the baths,” he says honestly. “But I knew it wouldn’t help. Strangely enough I knew that being with you was the only relief I needed.”

 

“Strange, huh?” I ask, blinking hard against the tears welling up in my eyes. He walked around and then realized he wanted to be with me. It’s almost too much to grasp. Will I ever get over how much I love this man? Do I even want to? And will he ever cease to surprise me? 

 

Sometimes I wish his friends could see him that way. Michael, despite the fact how clueless he can be sometimes, probably knows. He must have seen this Brian from time to time. But the others. Ted, who thinks Brian’s some kind of unfeeling fucking-machine, or Emmett who laughs about Brian’s jokes, but thinks he’s heartless apart from it. Or Deb, who certainly loves Brian, but who has her own image of him, which isn’t the kindest there is, I might add. 

 

But there is also that part of me that jealously wants to protect what we have. This very private, very intimate understanding. The parts of him he only shows to me, because he feels enough not to hide. It makes me feel all warm and happy inside. 

 

He shrugs, “Anyway. I went back to the car and drove home. Only to find the widow from hell in front of my door.” 

 

“I thought I was stepping right into a nightmare,” I tell him. “She tore right into me.” I lick my lips, hesitating only a second, “I … maybe I was wrong, Brian.” When he looks at me and rises a brow, I clarify, “About Mel. She seems so bitter. She was totally unreasonable.”

 

“It doesn’t surprise me,” he replies, slightly shaking his head. “We got along, but barely. And we both did it for Linds. Now that she’s gone, the balance is lost.” Removing his arm, he suddenly stands up and starts to pace, “Jesus. This is so fucked. I don’t want to fight for my kids. I’ve seen what it can do to children. Sara is too small, but, Christ,” he combs a shaky hand through his hair. “Gus is the one who’ll be getting hurt. I don’t want that.”

 

“But you said Ms McKinley was good.” Looking at him, lines surrounding his mouth, a frown marring his face, I wish there was something I could do. But unfortunately all I have to offer is support. I can only hope it’ll be enough.

 

“She is. She’s a shark. But … I don’t want Gus to go through this.” He stops when he reaches the stairs, then turns to me, “On the other hand I don’t want him to think his father didn’t love him, either. And that’s what he’s going to think if I stop fighting for him. Fuck! I wish there was a solution for this mess.”

 

I want to get up and hold him, but know that he doesn’t need it right now. So instead I just look at him, and say, “I thought I could talk to her. But after today,” I shrug, “I’m not sure.”

 

“I’m not sure anyone can talk sense into her. She’s always been bitter, and jealous. But now,” he shakes his head and releases a long breath. “How can living with a woman like her be good for the kids?” Again he combs his hand through his hair, “I just don’t want Gus being torn apart by all this. He’s just a little kid for fuck’s sake.” Angrily he swipes his foot over the floor like in an imaginary kick. 

 

Helplessly I watch him, not sure what to do or say to make it better, not sure if I even can. So I finally stand up and walk over to him, tentatively wrapping my arms around his middle, and pressing myself close to his body. “Whatever happens,” I whisper, “you’re not alone in this, Brian. I’ll always be right here with you.”

 

I feel his lips touching my hair, feel his kiss on my skin, then his lips wander to my temple and finally find my lips. His kiss is soft, and hot at the same time, his warm lips seducing me with their touch. After a moment his tongue darts out, seeking entrance which I give him gladly. I feel the warmth of his body, feel the moistness of his mouth, and I close my eyes, knowing that, I didn’t lie. Whatever comes our way, I’ll be with him. This time, nothing will tear us apart again.


	7. Wild Shores

Going through bookstores has always been one of my favorite pastimes, and it seems as I get older my love for the written word grows even more. I could easily spend a fortune, and stores like Eddie’s are very close to my heart. 

 

Eddie was a Vietnam veteran I treated for a few years with post traumatic stress syndrome. When he slowly found his way back into life he decided to pursue his lifetime dream, to open a travel book store. At first I felt it was kind of my duty to come here, but now it’s become a weekly regular and I rarely leave his shop without something. I usually go here Wednesday afternoons and stay for one or two hours. 

 

“Found something, doc?” Eddie asks when I stop in front of a table where he put book about Australia on display.

 

I look up and smile at him, “I don’t know. I always wanted to see Ayres Rock.”

 

“Ah,” he nods knowingly, and steps around his counter. “Nice country, Australia. I went there after the war. There was this little girl…,” he trails off and grins, blushing slightly. He’s almost sixty and still blushes. It’s the kind of innocence not a lot of people can preserve. 

 

I grin back, “I wouldn’t know.”

 

“Well,” he nudges my side, “Aussie’s have great boys, too. Just think of Russel Crowe.” 

 

My eyes widen in mock surprise, “Don’t tell me you think Russel’s hot. Eddie. Eddie. I seriously misjudged you.”

 

“Doc,” he cackles. It’s a real miracle to see him like this. When I first met him, he was barely able to form a coherent sentence. He was a serious drunk, aggressive, self-destructive, had attempted suicide at least twice. He was living on the streets, had severed all connections with his family, hadn’t seen his three children for more than twenty years. His wife had died in the meantime and the guilt he felt because of it was only adding to his multiple problems. He’s one of the reasons that make it easy for me to get up every morning.

 

The bell above the door rings and Eddie turns around. “Well, well, well … all the pretty boys on one day,” he jokes and or course I turn around too, only to find myself face to face with Justin Taylor, in all his blond beauty. 

 

Shit.

 

The guy looks like sunshine impersonated. The bright hair, the blue eyes, and the blinding smile, it’s too much for any living gay man on this planet. 

 

“Peter,” he exclaims, the smile lighting up his whole face. 

 

“Hey, Justin,” I say weakly, wishing I was somewhere else but this close to him. The last time we saw each other, there was kind of an emergency with Brian. I was distracted, but today I’m not, and it’s not a good thing. My lurching cock makes that painfully clear. 

 

“Wow, this is a surprise,” he beams, his head going from Eddie to me and back to Eddie. 

 

Glad to be distracted – even if it’s only for a moment – I introduce them, then watch when they shake hands, then wish the earth would swallow me here and now when Eddie wiggles his brows, “So, you and the doc …”

 

For a moment Justin doesn’t understand but then blushes furiously, “NO! I mean, not that I think you’re not attractive,” he babbles, looking at me, “because you are, but … I do have a boyfriend.”

 

As if I need to be reminded of that. I really thought, and tried to make myself believe, that our kiss that night all those weeks ago was just an accident, resulting from my weariness and too much wine on his part, but now I know it’s been a lot more. Why and how it happened? I have not the slightest idea. Why do people fall in love, in lust? Hormones, fate? Who knows. I’m definitely in lust with Justin, and maybe even love him a little. And that’s bad. So very bad. Not just because I know he loves Brian and Brian loves him, or because he was my patient at that time, and it’s completely unethical, but also because I really want to be Justin’s and Brian’s friend and I don’t know if it’s ever going to be possible now. Plus, I’m not sure how to explain to Brian that I can’t be his therapist any longer. He has a session scheduled with me tomorrow, and I’ve decided it has to be our last.

 

“… don’t you, doc?”

 

My head snaps around at that, and I realize that I didn’t listen to anything they were talking about while standing next to me. “Sorry, what did you ask?”

 

Eddie gives me a knowing grin, the guy knows me entirely too well, “I told Justin here that you’re working too hard. You should go out, find yourself a nice boyfriend.”

 

“He’s right, you know,” Justin adds in a teasing voice. Then he grins, “Hey, you could go to Babylon. Have you ever been there?”

 

“A few years ago,” I reply.

 

“Then you should go,” the blond urges, and grins again. “Of course the best there has been taken.”

 

Meaning Brian. Shit. As if I needed the reminder. But at least my cock gets the message and my erection subsides slightly. “How is Brian?” I ask, not entirely changing the subject, but enough to be on safe ground again. 

 

Justin’s smile faces and he sighs. “Apart from an ugly confrontation with his mom, and Mel totally freaking out,” he shakes his head and frowns, “we’re great.”

 

Eddie realizes that the conversation is touching private matters now and quietly walks back to his counter where a customer waits already. Looking at Justin, I feel concern rising. “How is he dealing with that?”

 

“Okay, I guess,” he says, shrugging. “I mean, his mom is a real bitch. All of sudden she wants to be his mom again. He doesn’t trust her of course, and frankly, I don’t either. The woman is incredible. It’s a miracle Brian didn’t just jump from a bridge one day. My mom can be a pain, but compared to Brian’s …” He trails off and rolls his eyes. 

 

“Maybe she is serious,” I wonder aloud. 

 

“Oh, please.” Again Justin rolls his eyes, which in some people looks comical, in him it’s so utterly sexy, my finally half-subsided cock lurches back to awareness. “When Brian was accused of molesting his nephew, she was only too ready to blame him, too. We never talked about it, but I can only guess how much it must have hurt him. She’s his mother, she’s supposed to be on his side, but the only thing that counts for her are dead words written more than 2000 years ago. Thanks, but no thanks. As far as I’m concerned, Brian’s far better off without her.”

 

I’m not sure I agree with that, but I can understand where he’s coming from. Both he and Brian have this over-protective streak where the other is concerned. Generally it’s not a bad thing, but sometimes it can make things a little difficult. “I still think,” I say thoughtfully, “you should give her a chance.”

 

He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, “Are you insane? You really think I’m going to let her hurt him again. You should’ve seen him the last time. He simply took off, went away for hours. Can you believe it, she went to my mom. We were completely unprepared to see her. Brian couldn’t deal with it. Oh, no, Peter. She’s not getting the chance to do it again, if I can help it.”

 

Deciding that it’s time now to change the subject for good, because I realize he’s not going to budge on this one, I ask, “Did you go and see Callie?” I gave him the card of one of my colleagues who is specialized in dealing with abused spouses.

 

“Yeah,” he nods. “And I’m going to see her again. Once every two weeks. She says it’s enough.” Again he grins, and a little proudly, “She says I’m dealing remarkably well with the problem. It’s because of Brian, but of course she hasn’t met him yet.” His blue eyes twinkle with delight, and I have to suck in a sharp breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m a goner here. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should go to Babylon to get laid. It’s been far too long anyway. 

 

“Ah,” I reply, my mouth suddenly so dry, compared to it the Sahara is a rain-forest. 

 

His eyes flicker to the clock in the corner and his eyes widen, “Shit. I’m late. I have a late class at seven. Life nude, you know.” Again the grin appears on his face, “Today it’s a nude male model. You should see the guy. We started with him yesterday. So fucking hot. Brian’s all jealous, and so he decided to pick me up tonight. To get a glimpse you know.” Turning to the door, he tosses over his shoulder, “It was nice seeing you. Eddie, I’ll be back another day.”

 

“Do that, Justin,” Eddie shouts from the back where he and a customer went a few moments ago.

 

“Bye, Justin,” I mumble weakly, closing my eyes, as soon as I hear the door close behind him. 

 

Yes, definitely. Babylon. Tonight. Getting laid just moved to the top of my priority list.

 

*****

 

“Another cup, Father Tom?” 

 

I look up from the half-filled cup still standing in front of me, and shake my head, “Thanks, Joan, but no. I’ve still got plenty.” 

 

She nods a little distractedly, and with slightly trembling hands fills her own cup to the rim, then wipes the shining surface with a cloth. “I’m so glad you came,” she says, not looking at me. “I … I don’t know what to do.” She gives a helpless shrug of her shoulders, then with a sigh turns back to me, holding the cup in front of her chest like a small shield. “Brian hates me, Father Tom, he really does.”

 

“Joan-“ I try to say, but she doesn’t let me. 

 

“No, he does. Believe me. The worst part is, he has reasons to. I was never the mother I should have been. Jack … was so cold … and I think after a while he froze me, too.” Her eyes are not directed at me, but at some point in the far distance, and a smile plays around her lips, “When Brian was born, he was so tiny. He was premature, you know. Only seven months old. His nails weren’t developed completely, and he didn’t have any hair, but I didn’t mind.” Her eyes focus on me again, “I loved him so much. Jack wanted me to have an abortion, but I refused. The bible makes it clear and so …,” another helpless shrug, “he was mine. Mine alone.”

 

“I can imagine how hard it must have been,” I say, more for the sake of saying something at all. I’m not sure what I should say. I can’t imagine how a mother feels who’s husband rejects the child she’s carrying, and I don’t want to. I never knew Jack Kinney, and I don’t really regret it. I’m sure he and I wouldn’t have been friends. 

 

Joan nods, taking a little sip from her cup, “Jack was cruel. He never came to the hospital, only saw Brian when I returned home. I still remember him giving a snort when he looked at his son, then turned away and left to get drunk. That night he beat me black and blue and later forced himself on me. I wasn’t even supposed to … you know.”

 

She says it so matter-of-factly, it makes me shiver. Rape during matrimony isn’t new, and it’s also not the first time I heard about it, but each time is as bad as the first. All my colleagues tell me the same, you never get used to things like that. 

 

Not sure what to say, I simply nod and take a sip from my own tea. 

 

“He accepted Brian after a while, but he never loved him. Or anyone,” she adds almost on an afterthought. “I should never have married him, but when I realized what kind of man he was … I was his wife, we had two children, and … so I stayed. I saw it as my duty. Plus my parents wouldn’t have forgiven me for a divorce so it never really entered my mind.”

 

“Why didn’t you just leave?” I ask before I can stop the words.

 

“I asked myself the same thing. I could have left without a divorce, but I didn’t. Probably for the same reason, my parents, my belief. So we were married and hated each other. And the children were right in the middle.” She pauses, fills her cup again, “When Brian grew up, he wanted his father to love him, to be proud of him, the way all boys want. But Jack never had a kind word for him. Or me. Or Claire. At first I tried to … to fill in, but I …” She trails off and suddenly her eyes fill with tears, “It’s my fault as much as Jack’s. He … abused his children and I did nothing to stop him.”

 

“Joan,” I put my cup away, stand up and walk to her side, touching her shoulder gently, “don’t be so hard on yourself. You did wrong, but God forgives his children.” I firmly believe in that. It’s what made me chose a career as a minister. The idea of eternal forgiveness holds such beauty and peace, it gives me the strength to do what has to be done. 

 

“Can he really?” she asks, pain filled eyes gazing up at me. “Can he forgive a mother who failed her children? I … when he was accused of molesting his nephew I believed it. Because he … he is a …,” he voice drops, “homosexual. He does it with men.”

 

It’s almost funny to hear her say it, or it would be if I wasn’t living a lie. I never told anyone about my sexual orientation, not even my parents. The only one knowing are a string of strangers I met at clubs like the baths. God knows, of course, but I know he understands, approves even. He made me that way, so he will accept me, too. 

 

I think the Bible is one of the most magnificent books ever written. But it’s also 2000 years old and the view of things has changed slightly since then. Thank God. “Joan,” I say firmly, squeezing her shoulder, “I know what the Bible says about gay men. At the time when the Bible was written, Romans were the enemy. The Roman empire ruled everything, and homosexuality was approved in their society. I think that’s part of the reason why Christians so strongly disapproved. They thought it was prove of the Roman decadence. We can also not ignore that a lot of rich Romans used young boys for their pleasure. Today we would call it child molesting.”

 

She stares at me for a long moment, then nods, “But it’s still a sin.”

 

“Technically, yes,” I agree, not quite sure how to do this. “But God is … encompassing, Joan. He’s made all of us after his own image. That means gay people, too.”

 

A surprised sound comes from her mouth, and she puts the cup in her hand down quickly. “I … never thought about it that way.” She bits her lower lips for a moment, then looks at me with such wide, trusting eyes, I feel once again reminded why I wanted to become what I am today. If it means hiding a part of myself, well, then it has to be that way. In a perfect world I wouldn’t have to, but this world isn’t perfect, and so I, we all, will have to live with it the way it is. 

 

“Joan,” I say softly, letting go of her shoulder, “there are priests out there who would certainly tell you otherwise, but I’ve always thought of them as narrow-minded. God can’t be narrow-minded or he couldn’t be God.”

 

“I … I …,” she’s speechless, undoubtedly trying to come to terms with what she just heard. It’s new to her, and she certainly didn’t expect the words coming from my mouth. “Even if …,” she says after a moment, “I can find a way to … accept this … this life-style of his, I’m not sure he can ever forgive me.” She sighs, “He’s so angry.”

 

“Of course he is. He’s hurt. You said he wanted you to love him, no matter what. But instead of doing so you made it clear to him that if he was gay he couldn’t count on you.” My father did the same, and it’s another reason I never told anyone. I was afraid to lose my parents’ love and support, and I have a feeling Brian felt the same. And the anger, no surprise there. I saw him angry myself, that day in the church when he challenged me. It was surrounding him like a shield. And he still managed to keep my secret in order not to hurt his mother. 

 

I wish I could tell her what her son did, that he put her happiness above his own, but of course I can’t. Because it would mean outing myself, and even if I had enough courage to do that, right now I think it’s for the best if Joan doesn’t know about my sexual orientation. She trusts me, and maybe, through that trust, I’ll be able to help her with the problem with her son.

 

I often think about him. Even if I’m not visiting Joan or see her in church, I sometimes find myself drifting off, my mind wandering to that night at the baths, his cock thrusting deeply, his breath labored, he was fucking me like no one ever did. I had the greatest orgasm of my life, but until today I’m not sure if he came because he liked my ass or because his boyfriend was right beside him, looking equally hot. 

 

The two were kissing all the time, looking at each other, smiling. It’s a strange thing, only a few people would understand. They were both fucking different guys, but in reality they were fucking each other. In their heads there was only them, we, the other guy and I, meant nothing. They could’ve exchanged us any time. 

 

I saw them again – at Babylon. Going there is something I don’t allow myself to do very often. That night I went, knowing through the grapevine that if I was looking for Brian I would find him there. I watched him dancing, with the blond. After doing so for a while I realized I was jealous. Of the way they were in tune with each other. When I heard they’d broken up, I couldn’t believe it.

 

“Oh God,” I hear Joan sob, pressing a hand in front of her lips. “He’s never going to forgive me, Father Tom. What kind of mother am I?”

 

“A mother who finally understands she did wrong,” I say with a smile, gently taking her other hand, and squeezing it. “A mother who tries to make it up to him, who is ready to face the mistakes she made.” I pause and wait until she looks at me, “A mother who finally understands that love is more important than anything else.”

 

“I do,” she cries. “Believe me, I do. I don’t even expect him to … to love me. But do you think he could forgive me?”

 

Again I think of the angry Brian who swallowed his pride for the sake of his mother. Letting go of Joan’s hand, I smile again, “Brian loves you Joan, never doubt that. And I’m sure he wants nothing more than to be loved back by you. The problem is that you failed him, so it’s up to you to prove him that you’ve changed and that he can trust you again.”


	8. Wild Shores

I am just about to slip into sleep when I feel the first firm touch of Brian’s fingers between my thighs. Now acquiescent to my lover’s touch, I obligingly part my legs for easier access. A few minutes ago I thought I was tired, but as his touch begins to slide in a determined pattern from the base of my cock to my opening, I suddenly decide that I wasn’t as worn out as I thought I was. 

 

Reacting to the teeth nibbling at the side of my throat and the hands that are turning my backbone into jelly, I start an exploration of my own. He has the most beautiful body I know and his smooth skin over hard, well-exercised muscle flows beneath my palms, and it’s one of the most sensual pleasures to discover Brian’s body with my hands. Small, encouraging noises accompanying a variety of pressures, ranging from kneading to stroking, and before long I can’t tell where my body ends and his begins. I feel as if we’re one person in two skins, and we move continuously, driving the fire hotter and hotter. 

 

Hooking one leg over Brian’s thighs, I manage to turn us over until I am on top. Lowering my head, I let my tongue swirl in circular patterns over his chest, moving slowly downward to his groin, knowing that he wants it just like that. We know each other now, are so attuned that each caress has meaning, is given with love. 

 

Brian starts to writhe under my caresses and I know I am right. I finally reach Brian’s nether regions, I find his straining erection and rub my chin along the hard flesh. It feels like velvet and iron at once and it will never cease to amaze me. How men can prefer pussy to this, is beyond me. Replacing my chin with my tongue, I let it glide over the shaft, and soon Brian is trusting helplessly up to me. Closing one hand around the base of the shaft, holding the swollen sac with the other, I take a deep breath and try my best to swallow Brian whole. 

 

I know I’ve reached my goal, when with a protesting grunt, Brian explodes. I swallow as fast as I can, but am not able to keep up with the flow, and the excess ejaculate drips down my chin. Milking the rest of Brian’s orgasm from him, careful not to overstimulate the now tender flesh, I sneak my way back up his torso and kiss him. When our lips part I feel him smile against my mouth. 

 

“Tastes great,” he says almost dreamily. I’m still so amazed by the changes in Brian, and I wonder when I’ll discover all of them. Probably never, but that’s alright. 

 

Brian wraps his arms around me, and I lean back slightly, so he can lap up the spillage from my chin. He licks me clean with all the delicacy and thorough attention of a cat at a bowl of cream. I feel my own erection bumping into his thigh and hazel eyes open blearily. “Fuck me,” he whispers. 

 

I still can count the times Brian has actually asked me to fuck him on the fingers of one hand. Sure, I fucked him more often, but he rarely asks, and in the past more or less endured it. I know he enjoyed it, but it isn’t the same. Hearing him ask, almost makes my dick explode on the spot. Feeling heat wash over me, I manage a shaky grin, and fumble through the drawer near by to find what we need. I quickly cover myself with a condom, then flip open the tube of lubricant, thanking every god in the universe for the flip top as my hands are losing fine motor control rapidly. They’re shaking so badly, I silently wonder if I need treatment for Parkinson soon. 

 

Warming the slick stuff in my palm, I reach up to kiss Brian thoroughly before nudging the taller man onto his side. Pushing his slim but surprisingly strong thighs apart with my knee, I reach down and prepare the way, slicking lubricant all over his crease, my own erection, onto his thighs and the sheets. Ooops. Got a little carried away there. Brian would give me the look in the morning, but right now I couldn’t care less. All I can see is this gorgeous ass right in front of me, and without any more preparation I ease myself into the tight channel. 

 

I want to savor it for a moment, but it’s not possible when Brian starts pushing back against me, giving me the signal to move. Close to bursting already from the long built-up, I don’t last long. Fuck. Brian, still sated from his previous orgasm, solely concentrates on my pleasure and massages me with his internal muscles, squeezing and relaxing until I lose all semblance of rhythm and begin to thrust uncontrollably into him. One last hard muscular contraction proves to be one too many and I scream as I come, burying my face in Brian’s warm back and nearly blacking out from the intensity of the orgasm. 

 

With a shaky breath, I slip from my lover’s body and fall back against the pillows, too drained to even move. Brian turns, carefully, and shifts us both, so he doesn’t have to sleep in the wet spot. I can already hear him giving me a lecture about the proper use of lube, but who cares? Exhausted, but thoroughly satisfied I cuddle against him and immediately fall asleep.

 

*****

 

Whatever I expected when I went to see Brian that morning, it sure as hell wasn’t looking into a thoroughly fucked face. Don’t understand me wrong, I’ve seen his fuck face, hell, I’ve been there most of the time, watching it turn his eyes into that dark hazel shade, his pupils dilated, his mouth almost slack, and so kissable it hurts to not be able to press my lips on it. I know that one. But I never saw him like this before.

 

He blinks, as if he has to remember who is standing in front of him, then turns away from the door and walks into his kitchen, leaving the door open for me to enter. “Mikey? What are you doing here? I thought you were still,” he waves with his left hand, while his right is busy pouring coffee, “at some retreat or something.”

 

I snort, “It was for shit. And it wasn’t a retreat. It was this hotel in New Orleans-“

 

He waves again, “Too much information too early. My mind can’t process it at this time of the day. So,” he holds out a mug for me and I take it, then he turns back and pours another for himself, “why are you back already?”

 

“Three weeks was more than enough,” I reply, easing myself onto a stool, and watching him, sipping from his mug, his lids still half-closed. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” I blurt out after a moment.

 

He grins, a grin that lets my gut go all flutter, “Try having Justin’s very fine cock shoved up your ass. Then we can talk again.”

 

“Too much information,” I mirror his words from before, and we share a grin. It’s strange, really. Even though it still hurts, even though I still want him more than ever, still dream of us making love without end, his words at the comic book store a few weeks ago made it clear. He’s with Justin now. And he’s not going to love me – that way – ever. 

 

I hear a stumbling noise behind me, followed by swearing. A moment later Justin appears, his hair standing in several directions, his eyes a hazy shade of blue. Like Brian, he blinks when he sees me. “Michael? Hi.” He comes over to where we’re standing, reaches over the counter and snags the mug right out of Brian’s hand, empties it in one large gulp, then groans appreciatively, “That’s exactly what the doctor prescribed.”

 

Retrieving his cup, Brian snickers, “Maybe you should try sleeping more than three hours for a change.” His eyes flicker to me, “After the most intense fucking, he slept a while, then got up in the middle of the night and spent hours at his computer.”

 

Justin, who’s gotten himself a mug of his own, sips from his coffee, and rolls his eyes, “Well, some people actually have to work, you know. And it was only two hours.”

 

“So,” I lean over the counter, holding the mug between my palms, the warmth chasing the chill I’ve felt since I departed the plane this morning away, “what’s happening in good old Pittsburgh?”

 

Rubbing his forehead, Brian sighed, “Things are tight, Mikey.”

 

Feeling suddenly as if I need to apologize, I lower my lids, “I’m … sorry … you know, for not coming to Lindsay’s wake and all. But I-“

 

“No, it’s okay,” Brian interrupts me, his eyes serious. “You missed nothing, but a great bitching fest.”

 

Feeling a little left out, I tilt my head, but before my lips can form the question, Justin already answers it, “Mel’s behaving like the worst bitch.”

 

No surprises there. Mel’s always been touchy where Brian is concerned, not that I ever understood why? Okay, so Linds and Brian had a thing in college, but geez, it was long over and done with before she and Mel got together. At least where Brian is concerned. I’m sure he never spent a single minute wondering if he and Linds might have worked out. “Maybe we need to cut her some slack-“ I start, but Brian interrupts me with an impatient shake of his head. 

 

“I’m all for cutting her some slack, Mikey. But it’s gone far beyond that. She’s so eaten up by the anger she’s been harboring for years, she doesn’t even care anymore that Gus is in the room, hearing everything.” Rubbing his neck, he looks at Justin for a moment, then back at me, “I can take it, but Gus can’t. He’s just lost his mother. But I’m not giving him up either.”

 

“But there’s still the problem of the parental rights,” I feel inclined to remind him. “Legally the kids are Mel’s.”

 

Brian sighs, “I know. That’s why I contacted a lawyer. She thinks I might have a chance because by signing the papers I was counting on Mel and Linds raising the kids together. And Linds was the biological mother. So my lawyer thinks we can prove that I entrusted my kids mainly to her. Plus, Mel’s a single parent now.” 

 

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Brian’s going to fight Mel in court? He’s obviously seen the surprise and disapproval in my eyes, because he sighs, “I hate this shit, Mikey. But if it comes to it, it might be the only way.”

 

Can I say that this shocks me? Yes, I know Brian loves his kids, but until today I always thought he was happy with being the drop-in-dad, glad to leave the actual responsibility to the lesbians. But it seems that has changed. The man in front of me is determined to fight for his children if necessary. And it seems his partner is equally determined to support him wherever necessary. 

 

I feel jealousy creep up inside of me, very quiet, very slowly, but it’s there. It’s been my friend for so long, I recognize it everywhere. I want to be the one to stand at Brian’s side. Just like old times. I want him to trust me, to confide in me, not Justin. I want him to kidnap me at night, shoving me into Babylon, sharing a trip with me. But he’s not going to do it. This is not the same Brian anymore. To my own amazement the eternal Peter Pan has grown up at last. I feel sadness at the thought, the way you feel it when childhood dreams are finally laid to rest. And there’s resentment for the man who’s responsible for it. Yes, I know, Justin didn’t actually do anything, but I can’t help myself.

 

“When did you get back?”

 

Brian’s question interrupts my thoughts and I look up, “Just an hour ago.”

 

He looks at me, very seriously, and for a long time, before he slowly shakes his head, “Mikey, this has to stop. You can’t come running to me all the time. I thought we talked about it. You said you understood.”

 

Understood, what? That he’s never going to love me? Believe me, I have. But does that really mean things have to change? Does it really have to mean that Justin has to stand between us? Why can’t he just go on the way he has? Why do people have to grow up? “You’re my best friend,” I insist, hoping that he will understand what I’m saying. 

 

“I am,” he says gently, “and that’s not going to change. But life goes on, people change, and situations do. We are adults, Mikey, not fourteen year old teenagers who jerked off over Patrick Swayze. I have two children, a job and someone … who shares my life. You need to get on with your life, too. Why didn’t you go to see Carl?”

 

“Carl doesn’t want me anymore,” I mumble, hating that he’s managed to find my weak spot. He really has a talent for it.

 

“What do you mean, he doesn’t want you? He loves you. The guy is crazy about you. Beats me why, but there it is.”

 

“Not anymore,” I tell him, finally forced to face the horrible phone conversation a week ago. I called Carl at night only to find a total stranger answering his cell phone. 

 

“Okay, I’m lost here,” Justin moved to Brian’s side and looks at me. 

 

Blue eyes, blond hair, and I really hate him. Okay, not hate hate him, but I hate that he’s here, I resent the shit out of it, that he’s part of this conversation, that he’s got a right now to share what used to be between Brian and me. I want him gone, but know he won’t. He lives here now, he is a permanent part of Brian’s life and if I want to stay his friend I have to accept it, even if it kills me. Fuck!

 

“Carl has a new lover,” I admit after swallowing my resentment. Jesus, I thought I was better now. While I was in New Orleans, things seemed easier somehow. I wasn’t thinking about Brian all the time, and I had the whole Carl-dilemma worked out in my head. I would stay away for a while, then come back and tell him that I was fine now, that we should get back together. Of course the unfamiliar voice at his cell phone and seeing Brian again let all my plans crumble to pieces.

 

“He’s got – what?” Brian almost chokes on his coffee. “No way, Mikey. No fucking way.” He pauses for a moment and his eyes take on that speculative gleam that tells me he’s figured me out completely. Shit. “You just assumed, didn’t you Mikey?” he says then, pushing his tongue in his cheek. “What happened? Did someone else answer his phone?” He sees me flinch and grins knowingly, “I see. And of course you did nothing to find out what it meant, right?”

 

“Maybe someone just slept on his sofa or something,” Justin adds, trying to be helpful.

 

But to me he’s only annoying. “Stay out of it,” I snap, glaring at him. “This has nothing to do with you.”

 

“Mikey,” Brian warns, but I don’t care. I’m not in the mood to care. My world is crumbling to pieces and nobody seems interested. 

 

“It’s your fault anyway. Why did you have to come back?” I toss the question at Justin like an accusation.

 

“Excuse me?” he tosses right back. “What is this all about?”

 

“It’s about jealousy,” Brian says quietly, his eyes dark and very sad. “And about people who don’t want to grow up at all.”

 

“Fuck you,” I hiss at the man who’s been my idol for so long. I’ve admired him since I met him, made him my hero. “You knew I loved you. You knew it all the time, and you loved it. Oh, you loved it, that I was worshipping you, you went off on it, didn’t you.” I pause, then repeat, “Didn’t you?”

 

For a moment he simply stares at me, then he lets out a long suffering sigh, “Mikey, I … don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say?”

 

“You … asshole. Now I’m supposed to write it down for you?” I slam the mug down, not caring when the remaining contents splash all over the counter. He has a fucking cleaning lady, what do I care? He’s treating me like shit, and he’s ripping me to pieces and he doesn’t even care. 

 

“Mikey, please, don’t do this,” he says quietly, his eyes so sad, it should make me feel guilty. A few months ago they would have, I would’ve melted into a puddle at his feet, but not anymore. 

 

“Michael-“

 

“You, shut up,” I shout, hating Justin’s mere presence. God, why did he have to come into our lives at all? We were so happy, such good friends, everything was going the way it should. Brian was fucking around, Ted didn’t get any, Em was Em, and I … had two or three not so serious boyfriends. Things were great. And then he had to come along, and turn everything into a fucking mess. 

 

“Mikey,” Brian warns again, but this time he puts his mug down, too, and steps closer to me. “Justin isn’t the cause of your problem.”

 

“The fuck he isn’t,” I hiss. “He’s the very thing. If he wasn’t around-“ 

 

“But he is,” Brian interrupts me quietly, his gaze intense and it’s as if his eyes are seeing everything, even my darkest secrets. Not that there are any left. Not anymore. “Mikey, I told you before. Don’t make me choose.” His gaze is even more intense now, his eyes almost pleading with me, “Please, don’t.”

 

“Brian-“ Justin’s voice is very quiet, and I see his hand come to lie on Brian’s arm, which, to my surprise, is trembling slightly. 

 

“I’m okay,” Brian replies, covering the hand with his own. “Really, I am,” he assures his lover.

 

Justin clearly doesn’t believe it, but lets it go. His gaze turning to me, he seems to scrutinize me, then he turns away from us, but not before I see a flash of anger in those blue orbs that will haunt me forever. I know I should be happy for the closeness they share these days, but all I feel is resentment, once again. He has what should be mine, and I just can’t forget it. Brian said it himself, I have saved him more times he can count. Doesn’t that mean anything?

 

“I need to know where I stand.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I realize I’m glad I said it. Maybe I need to hear it from him, maybe then it will sink in, will settle and finally let me move on. 

 

Brian stares at me, shock evident in his eyes. And sadness, such profound sadness I have to keep from reaching out and assuring him that I never meant it. But I did, and I need him to do it. I can’t spare him the pain. I wish I could be a better friend, but I’m afraid I can’t, I need this, I need to hear it. 

 

“Brian?” I say, waiting for him to say the words, to push the stake through my heart. 

 

An eternity seems to go by before he takes a deep breath, and then in barely above a whisper he forces one word out. It seems torn from his soul and his throat seems to close up with the pain of needing to say it. 

 

“Outside.”

 

The word reaches my ears, but my mind – even though I was expecting it, craving it even – needs time to process it. Outside. 

 

Outside.

 

In front of the door. 

 

Not in the circle.

 

Not in the loft.

 

Not in his life.

 

Outside.

 

Quietly I climb down from the stool, and without looking back, I leave the loft and his life, hoping that now I can finally find out what it means to be Michael Novotny.


	9. Wild Shores

I never expected being a mother would be a free ride containing nothing but fun and flowers. I was barely eighteen when I found out I was pregnant, and to say I was shocked would be the understatement of the century. Add the fact that the baby’s father was already far away and searching for who he truly was, and you can maybe imagine what I felt when the nurse at the clinic looked at me and delivered the news. 

 

I didn’t break down or scream or do anything. From what I remember I stared at her for several minutes, then turned and left. Getting rid of the kid was out of the question, not because my family was partially Italian and Catholic, but because it never once crossed my mind. This was my kid, a part of me growing in my womb and the mere thought of killing it was too horrible to contemplate. Plus I loved the kid already. So I went to my brother, who took me in his arms and let me cry there for hours. Then he dragged me home and after my parents freaked a little, they finally hugged me too, and my father whispered in my ear that everything would be alright. 

 

And now I’m standing here, looking at said kid and wishing with all my heart I could tell him the same. Unfortunately life isn’t a fairytale and wishes rarely come true. “I don’t know what to say,” is all that comes to my mind.

 

He leans back in his chair and chuckles, but the sound bears no happiness. “Wow, that’s got to be a first. Mom’s rendered speechless.” 

 

“Not speechless,” I reply, forcing myself not to touch him right now. “We could talk about the weather or the shitty food the diner serves these days, but I just don’t know what to tell you.”

 

“Brian is an asshole would be nice,” he offers, sighing the moment the words are out of his mouth.

 

“He undoubtedly is,” I agree, “most of the time. Not this time, though.”

 

“Oh, thanks so much,” he snaps, pouring himself another glass of red wine. We’re sitting in my kitchen, half-empty plates in front of us. 

 

“Michael, what do you want me to say? That it’s Brian’s fault? Sorry, but not this time. I love you, Michael. And I want you to be happy, but I always knew that Brian Kinney wasn’t the guy for it. Even if Justin wasn’t around, he would never feel about you that way.” It hurts to say the words, hurts even more because he’s the person I love more than my own life. 

 

“You don’t know that,” he argues. “Brian and I might have ended up together. But that blond twink had to stand underneath that fucking lamp. Afterward, nothing was the same anymore.”

 

I would laugh if I wasn’t feeling so fucking sad for him. His whole life, well most of his sexual life anyway, he spent dreaming about how it would be with him and Brian. Not that it ever had a chance to happen, but he kept dreaming anyway. Neither David, nor Ben, and not even Carl ever had a chance against that fantasy. “Oh yes, I know,” I say gently, reaching over the table to pat his hand. “It’s got nothing to do with you, honey. But Brian … is Brian.” 

 

Giving me a thoroughly annoyed look, he snorts. “Sounds really deep, mom.”

 

“It’s not. But you said it yourself, Justin changed things. He did, not because he diverted Brian’s interest from you, but because he spiked it. He’s been challenging Brian from day one. Brian kept pushing him away time and again, but he just wouldn’t give up. And he was never content. At least until Christ Hobbs bashed him in that fucking garage. And Brian loved him.” Michael snorts and I shake my head, “Yes, he did. Even then. He just didn’t know it. Maybe didn’t want to know it, or maybe he didn’t recognize it. Brian’s fucked up good by people who I refuse to address as parents.”

 

“He said he loved me, time and again,” Michael argues, his lower lip coming out in a pout. It’s an expression I always thought incredibly cute. Right now it only adds to the sadness in my motherly heart. 

 

“And he does love you.” When his head comes up, hope in his eyes, my heart cracks. “Honey, I’ve never doubted he loved you. But not like that. That’s Justin’s place. It’s been his from the start. You said it yourself, it’s never been the same since then.”

 

For a moment he says nothing, then he shakes his head. “Do you know how it feels to have your heart’s wish so close, day after day, and this hope just refuses to go away that maybe one day he might wake up and realize that I’m the best thing that could happen to him?” He laughs unhappily, “I’m pretty pathetic, huh?”

 

He is, but I’m not gonna tell him that. First, because I’m his mother, and then … well, I never was one for kicking someone who’s down already. “You’re hung up on a dream. That’s nothing uncommon, honey. I just wish … you would wake up and not let the best thing that ever happened to you slip away.”

 

“Meaning Carl,” he says without looking at me. He’s staring into his glass as if he could find the answers to his questions there. I wish it was that simple. 

 

“Carl is a great guy. And he loves you.” 

 

“Yeah, sure,” he snorts again. “So much that he didn’t even wait two weeks to fuck someone else.”

 

“You hurt him. Have you any idea how much that boy loves you? And yet he has to watch you falling apart over Brian – again. He’s a fucking saint if you ask me, for putting up with your attitude all the time.” Okay, so sometimes I do kick people who are on the ground already, but sometimes they need it.

 

“Mom?”

 

“Yes, honey?”

 

“I just wanted him to love me the way I loved him.” My heart melts and I’m up and by his side, my hand stroking his cheek. 

 

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

 

A tear drops from his eye, falling on my fingers. This is my son, a part of me, and I’m a part of him. “He’ll never do that, will he?”

 

Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him close, his face resting against my stomach, right over the womb that once carried him. “No, he won’t.”

 

“It hurts, Mom. God, it hurts.”

 

“I know, honey. Just cry. I’m here. I’m here for you.” I hold him, his hot tears soaking my shirt. He’s thirty five years old, a grown man, but he’s never going to be anything but my little boy.

 

*****

 

I can hardly believe my eyes when the door opens and I see Brian and Justin enter the diner. The last thing I would’ve expected was for them to come here, especially after what happened yesterday. After Michael left, my first impulse was to go and see Brian. I had no idea what I wanted to say to him, and so I finally decided not to go. He’s got enough shit going on already without me adding to it. 

 

“Hi, Deb,” Justin gives me one of his Sunshine-smiles and slips into the empty booth across from where Emmett and Ted are sitting already. Brian’s brows go up, but then he follows his … well, whatever he calls Justin these days. It’s the sort of silent understanding I wouldn’t have expected – ever – to see from Brian Kinney. This man really never ceases to amaze me. Every time I think I have him figured out, he does something completely unexpected. Like committing himself to someone. And it damn well looks like a commitment from where I stand. 

 

“Can we have breakfast?” he says in his usual annoyed voice. 

 

“Aren’t we chipper this morning,” Emmett grins, stuffing another piece of pancake in his mouth, then points his fork at his empty cup when he sees me approaching the table. 

 

Brian ignores Emmett’s comment and instead looks up at me, “Coffee, black. The whole nine yards for the kid.”

 

Justin nudges him with his elbow, but grins, “Will you cut the kid stuff. I’m twenty-three years old.” Then, directing his gaze to me, he rolls his eyes, which makes me grin, too. “I’ll have pancakes.”

 

“You’re going to end up fat and alone.” Brian smirks.

 

“Fat maybe,” Justin replies with utter confidence, “but never alone. You’re so on to me, Kinney.”

 

At that Brian snorts, but I can see his eyes flickering around. Sighing, I look at him, “He isn’t here. He went to see Carl.”

 

He frowns a little, then nods. “Good for him.”

 

Justin shifts a little, then bites his lower lip, “He said, Carl has a new lover.”

 

“Seems so,” I confirm, my heart sad and heavy. I so hoped this would work out between my son and Carl, but Michael had to go and fuck it up as always. With a sigh I turn away from the table, place the order, then return, the need to talk about the whole mess too strong to ignore. Brian’s left brow goes up at my approach, and his eyes stay on me when I pull a chair to the table and shout, “I’m taking five minutes off.”

 

“Uh-oh,” Emmett quips, “maybe we should leave.”

 

“No,” I shake my head, “stay. It’s no secret.”

 

“Not that anything with you ever was,” Brian says, smiling ever so slightly. 

 

I resist the urge to hit him over the head. I haven’t done that for a long time, and I’m not going to start again. “Michael told me what happened yesterday morning.”

 

Again Brian doesn’t comment, but he exchanges a glance with his lover, and Justin’s gaze says it all. The boy is so easy to read it’s ridiculous. “I know,” I sigh, “it’s my fault as much as everyone’s. I should’ve pushed him away, too.” I know it’s my fault, that Michael never really grew up, that he’s still hanging around, still being mama’s little boy. 

 

“Deb,” Brian starts, but I hold up a hand.

 

“Shit, Brian. I really thought Carl was the one. I really thought Michael was finally over his obsession with you.”

 

“He’s never been over it,” Justin says, his smile almost a little sad. Jennifer must be so proud of him. “He always resented the hell out of me.”

 

“Justin,” Brian says quietly. “Let it go.”

 

“No,” I shake my head, “he’s right.” I wish to God he wasn’t, but he is. “Vic said the same last night. Michael was fine until Justin returned. Justin was the trigger.”

 

Eyes suddenly blazing anger, Brian glares at me, “Don’t you dare-“

 

“No,” I interrupt him quickly. “I know its not Justin’s fault.” He relaxes a little and I try for a smile, “Sunshine didn’t do anything. But his return reminded Michael of what he would never have.”

 

“Shit,” Brian mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I tried to tell him, Deb. Before he left, we talked and he seemed … okay, I guess. I thought that going away would clear up things for him, obviously it didn’t.” Again his eyes find mine, then he turns to Justin and the blond raises his head to plant a kiss on his lover’s mouth. 

 

“It’s your fault, too,” Ted suddenly joins the conversation. “You loved seeing him following you around, always adoring the great master.”

 

“Teddy, maybe we should better stay out of it,” Emmett puts a hand on his ex-lover’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “We don’t know about all the facts.”

 

Shaking the other mans hand off, Ted glares first at Em, then at the Brian, who in his eyes might as well be the devil incarnate. “I’m telling nothing but the truth. Brian loved that for Michael the sun was rising and setting around Brian Kinney. It fed Brian’s ego.”

 

“Well, Theodore, and I thought you were over that obsession of yours,” Brian drawls, his lids half-lowered, the tip of his tongue visible between slightly opened lips. I’ve seen that expression often enough to know what it means, and when I see Ted flinch visible at the words, I wonder what this is all about. Obsession?

 

“What are you two talking about?” I demand, looking back and forth between the two of them. Brian, as expected, averts his gaze, while Ted flushes bright red. “Ted?”

 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” Emmett smiles, “Teddy had this little obsession with Michael for a while. But he’s over it, aren’t you, honey?” He pecks his ex-lover on the cheek and Ted gives a little embarrassed laugh. 

 

Stunned at the news, I frown, “What, did you collect pictures of my son, or what?” Again Ted flushes and I feel as if I’m choking, “Holy shit! Teddy!”

 

“As Emmett said, I’m over it.” His head comes back up and he glares at Brian, “And it’s got nothing to do with my little … obsession. I think you behaved like shit where Michael was concerned. Always stringing him along.”

 

“Oh please,” Justin comes to his lover’s defense. “Michael loved it. It certainly wasn’t a once sided kind of gig.” He slightly shakes his head and exchanges a look with Emmett, who gives a silent nod of understanding. 

 

“Anyway,” I say after a moment, “he told me you more or less threw him out.”

 

Brian gives me a startled look, “I never-“

 

“Well, you told him the way it was,” I interrupt. “And as much as it pains to see him that way, it’s what he needed. So thanks.”

 

His eyes widen ever so slightly and I can see he’s surprised. He clearly didn’t expect me to react the way I did. He probably thought I was going to strangle him or something, but that’s not going to happen. Not this time, anyway.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

A little startled at the unexpected interruption I turn my head and see a guy in a suit standing behind me. He doesn’t look as if he’s queer. Not that you can always tell by looking at them, but this guy looks as if he’s never set a foot into Liberty Avenue before. “Yeah?”

 

He coughs slightly, “I need to find someone. A man on the street told me you were the person to ask.”

 

Summoning my best grin, I slap him on the shoulder, enjoying the way he winces at the contact, “You’ve got that right, honey. So who is it you’re looking for?”

 

He frowns at me for a moment, then reached inside his suit and produces an envelope. “It’s a … Brian Kinney.”

 

Now I’m the one frowning, not sure what this is all about. But before I can say something, Brian is at my side, “I’m Brian Kinney.”

 

For a moment the man’s cool façade slips and something like a sneer crosses his thin lips, but is gone the next moment, and he’s all business again. “Then this is for you, pal,” he says. 

 

Brian stares at the envelope now lying in his hand, while the guy is already turning and about to leave. “Hey,” Brian shouts, “what the hell is that?”

 

Not bothering to turn around, the guy reaches for the door and opens it. “It’s a restraining order, my friend. Enjoy your day.” With that he’s gone, leaving us all speechless for a moment.

 

“A restraining order?” Justin asks then, and breaks the silence that has momentarily settled over the usually noisy diner. 

 

Looking at his lover, Brian opens the envelope, and unfolds the paper inside. It looks like some legal bullshit from where I’m standing, and when I hear Brian swear, “that fucking cunt”, I know it’s got something to do with Melanie. 

 

“What is it?” Justin wants to know, concern marring his features. With his palm he touches his lovers back, giving him support that way. 

 

“It’s what the man said,” Brian answers. “A restraining order. That bitch, Melanie, had it drawn. I’m not allowed to come near her house, or her, or any of her kin.” I see him taking a deep breath, but it does nothing to relieve the murderous look in his eyes when he raises his head again. 

 

“What?” Justin cries, equally outraged. “But she can’t do that. They’re your kids.”

 

“She already did, Sonnyboy.” Stuffing the letter back into the envelope, Brian reaches for his coat, “The fucking cunt thought she knew me. Well, now she’s gonna find out how wrong she was.” Without another word he storms out of the diner, Justin following him on his heels. Watching them go, I sigh, and wonder when life’s ever going to give that boy a break.


	10. Wild Shores

As soon as we’re back at the loft, Brian throws the keys away with an almost vicious movement, then pulls the letter from his pocket and picks up the phone, dialing a number from memory. I’ve never seen him this angry before. Never. Not even the night he found out I was cheating on him with Ethan. He was angry then, I could feel it, but he was aroused, too. It was a very strange vibe I was getting from him then. Now, arousal couldn’t be any farther from his mind. 

 

“This is Brian Kinney, I need to talk to Fiona. Now,” he barks into the receiver. “What do you mean she is in a meeting? She’s my lawyer dammit, and this is an emergency.” His eyes narrow and I can see him taking a deep breath, “Fine. Tell her that. I’m waiting.” Slamming the receiver back down, he turns and heads for the bar, sparing me not a single glance. 

 

When I see him pouring himself what I would call a huge whiskey, I walk over and slowly put a hand on his back. He flinches, but I don’t break the contact. Instead, I press my palm down harder, “Brian. Stop.” Angrily, he shakes his head, and I grab his hand that is holding the bottle, “Don’t. Brian, that’s not going to solve anything.”

 

For a moment he seems to freeze, before his eyes close and the most weary sigh escapes his mouth. Slowly he puts the glass and bottle down, then turns to look at me, his eyes very dark, angry, and filled with so many other emotions I can’t name. He says nothing, only stares at me for what seems like an eternity, then he lowers his head and kisses me. Not one of his sexy, heated kisses I’ve been craving since I was seventeen and had no idea what would wait for us in the future. No, the kiss this time is almost violent, his tongue demanding access without asking for permission first. Not that I would deny it to him. Not when I feel the need behind it, and the pain, and the fear, and they all seem to be pouring into me with his hot breath, and the hands starting to roam my back. 

 

Without warning he suddenly knocks me on the floor and with practiced movements rips my pants off of me. Heis inside of me so quickly, I’m barely able to breathe. How he managed to get a condom on himself I don’t know. He attacks my mouth fiercely, his tongue probing deeper and deeper while his cock does the same in my ass, and for a moment I wonder if I can be split in half by this driving passion, this almost insane need I feel in every thrust, every time his balls slap against my bare skin. 

 

No words are spoken during this almost animalistic coupling, and they are not necessary. We both know what’s happening here, both know that he needs this, and if I’m honest with myself, me too. The tension has been building since Brian cut the bonds between him and Michael, the one person who’s been a constant in his life for over 20 years, the one true friend he could always count on. The restraining order was just another piece and now all the tension is unloading. 

 

Again he drives his cock in to the hilt, again I feel as if I’m split apart, and I groan with a mixture of pleasure and pain. I’m gonna be sore for days after this, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Strange as it may sound, I’ve never felt closer to him than I do right now, never felt being so much a part of Brian. Fucking on the floor, our bare flesh smacking together with each thrust, specks of saliva flying through the air, panting together, moaning, groaning, we’re one. It doesn’t matter anymore that we’re two men, our feelings flow together, his pain is mine. 

 

For a last time he drives deep inside of me, then lets out a low, prolonged moan, before he collapses on top of me, my own orgasm mingling with his. I hold him, and I wish I could crawl into his skin, because lying here, sweaty and sticky, panting like crazy, it still doesn’t seem to be enough, yet it has to be, and I close my arms around him, holding him, loving him, without words, but with all my heart and soul.

 

*****

 

We’re both out of the shower when the phone finally rings. Exchanging a quick look with Justin, I pick it up, “I really hope it’s you Fiona, or you’re out of a job.”

 

“Oh my, aren’t we in a good mood today,” she replies, obviously amused by my attitude. I would be, too, on another day, and without the damned letter in front of me, but right now I can’t see anything funny in the situation.

 

“Where the hell were you?” I ask, trying to ignore the way Justin is shaking his head and rolling his eyes at my behavior. 

 

“Some people have work to do,” she says casually. “So, my assistant told me you had a problem. What happened?” And with this she’s all business again. “I suppose it’s got to do with Melanie Marcus.”

 

“The fucking cunt sent me a restraining order. I’m not allowed to come near my own kids.” I hate that it sounds desperate, but damn, I feel desperate. I never thought I could. That one time, when Linds had the French guy living with her, I didn’t really see him a threat. He was an idiot and it was easy to get him where I wanted him – gone. But Mel isn’t stupid, and she never stopped resenting me for what Linds and I once had. And for all her bravado, Mel is one of the most insecure people I’ve ever met. 

 

“So she’s trying to bring out the big guns, huh?” Fiona says, not sounding concerned at all, which only makes me more furious, even though it’s probably meant to calm me down. 

 

“Don’t,” I warn her, and hear a sigh on the other end of the line. 

 

“Listen. This may seem bad, but it’s not. We can counter her move easily, which is what I’m going to do the moment we finish this call.” There’s a moment of silence, and when her voice comes again it holds something that makes me feel almost sorry for Mel. Almost. “She made a big mistake in trying to keep you away from your kids, Brian. I can almost guarantee that there isn’t a judge who will like it.”

 

“Didn’t you forget something?” I ask, wondering if she’s really got the right perspective.

 

“What are you talking about?” She seems honestly confused for a moment.

 

“Duh. I’m gay.”

 

“So? She’s a lesbian. As a woman I might not like it, but if there’s one thing people hate more than queers, it’s dykes, and that goes double for most judges. And then there’s the little fact that she’s not the biological mother of those kids. She might think she’s got a strong case, but Miss Marcus never met me.” 

 

I almost have to laugh. She sounds like a vampire out for blood. “I’m glad you’re on my side, Fiona.”

 

“You should be,” she replies with conviction. This woman is used to winning, and that’s exactly what I need right now. 

 

“Okay, so what are you going to do?” 

 

“I already sent Sean, that’s our new assistant, to your loft. Please give him the order, so he can bring it to me. If we’re lucky, I can have the Restraining order withdrawn by tonight.”

 

It almost sounds too good to be true. “Okay,” I say, seeing Justin approach for a cup of coffee for me. He winces slightly with each step, and for a moment I feel a little guilty for fucking him so hard before, but it was so hot, I can’t really regret it. And from the look on his face, he doesn’t either. In fact, he seems downright happy with his current state. I can’t help but grin and he instantly returns it. Something happened just before, I’m not quite sure what, but there’s an intimacy between us that wasn’t there before. 

 

“Fine. I’ll call you as soon as I have news. Will you be at home?”

 

“Yes. And Fiona – thanks.”

 

“That’s what you’re paying me for, Brian.” With that she’s gone and I turn to my lover, who looks at me questioningly. “Her assistant will collect the letter, and she hopes to have the order withdrawn by tonight.”

 

He smiles, “That’s great. She must be a good one.”

 

I give him a snort. What does he think? That I’m going to hire some blabbering idiot? “She’s okay. Remind me to thank Cynthia properly for suggesting her.”

 

“I will,” he replies with a grin. “Maybe you should just give her a raise.” 

 

“Maybe,” I agree, finally taking the offered cup from his hand. “Thanks.”

 

He shrugs, and gingerly lowers himself on the sofa, wincing when his ass makes contact with the soft surface. “Shit,” he mutters.

 

I can’t help but grin, “Sorry.”

 

This time he is snorting, “Yeah. Sure. Besides, I don’t mind.”

 

“I noticed.” Sipping from my cup I sit down beside him, “It’s probably not how you imagined spending our time, huh?”

 

For a moment he looks confused, then anger flickers through his eyes, “That’s bullshit. Do you think I’m just here for a good ride?” 

 

“No,” I shake my head. “I know you’re in for the long haul.” He smiles and we share a look, “Still. After what you’ve been through, first with Ethan, then with me, you could do with a break.”

 

“I’m fine,” he assures me, reaching out and squeezing my hand. His is warm and the touch is comforting. “Besides,” a grin crosses his face, “I get my own benefits.”

 

I have to roll my eyes at his attitude. “If you mean fucking your ass like crazy…”

 

“Hey,” he interrupts, “I already told you, I enjoyed it. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

 

Silence settles between us, and unlike years ago, it’s not uncomfortable. I wonder if being able to not talk to someone really shows about the depth of emotion between people. Strange, Michael and I never could be silent for a long time. But then, we started when we were very young, and teenagers rarely can be quiet. Justin, however, could. Even at seventeen he had no problems just to sit and say nothing. He’s probably the most remarkable person I’ve ever met. All the shit that was thrown his way, and he always bounced back. He’s gone through hell with Ethan and Hollis and here he sits, smiling and telling me that having fucked his ass by a madman is his dream coming true. Okay, so he didn’t actually say *that*, but he still told me he enjoyed it. Which he probably did. 

 

How I wish we could just do that. Enjoy each other for a change, but of course there are no breaks for us. Always fate has to throw us a curveball. Usually I don’t mind, but I really resent the shit out of Mel. Not for being a bitch. Hell, I’ve gotten used to her being a cunt. But using the kids to get back at me is low, even for her. 

 

“Hey.” I look up and am once again treated to one of his brilliant smiles. But there’s also concern in his incredibly blue eyes making them darker, and deeper somehow. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” I reply automatically, then sigh. “No, not really. This is,” I shake my head, “such shit. I mean, I’m more or less used to Mel behaving that way. But this … I just can’t believe she would use the kids.”

 

“She’s still hurting,” he says gently, crawling over and climbing in my lap. 

 

“Hey, you’re heavy,” I joke, but like to feel his weight on me. He’s become heavier than he was years ago, but It’s nice to feel him like that. 

 

“You’ll survive,” he says, then kisses my mouth, softly, gently. Sighing slightly, he touches my cheek with his palm. “Mel’s angry. She lost the woman she loved. She had this plan that she and Linds would live happily ever after. It’s not going to happen anymore.”

 

I know that, and a part of me even understands, and I could live with it, if it wasn’t for Gus and Sara. She’s probably got another name now. I close my eyes for a short moment, “I never thought I’d come to love Gus the way I do,” I whisper, feeling a lump in my throat. “Or Sara.”

 

“I know,” he whispers back, leaning closer, snuggling his head beneath my chin. “He loves you too. And that’s your strongest weapon. He’s going to make her life a living hell, wanting to see his Dadda.”

 

We both chuckle at that. “The thing is,” I say after a moment, finally revealing my deepest fear to him. “What if the court gives me the kids? What am I gonna do with them? I never had Gus full time. Yes, I’ve gotten better lately, had him for a week or two, but I still could give him back when I wanted. Can I even be a full time dad?” I sigh, “Shit I never planned on being one.”

 

“Life rarely goes as planned.” He looks up and our eyes meet, “Maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe you and Mel can work it out after all.”

 

He says the words, but I can hear the doubt in his voice, can see it in his gaze. It’s the same feeling deep inside of me. Mel’s shut us out and has not intention of letting us back in. Justin is right, she is angry, and that makes her dangerous. “I don’t want the kids torn up between us.”

 

For a long moment he simply looks at me. “I love you, Brian,” he says, then kisses me, slowly, softly. When our lips parts, I pull him closer, and for a second try to picture my life without him, but my minds shies away from it, and I push the thought away. “I love you,” I whisper, and kiss his crown.


	11. Wild Shores

“I’m really very grateful that you agreed to see me – again.”

 

I suppress a sigh, and twirling the spoon in my cup I look up and into the face of Joan Kinney, who sits at the table across from me, her right hand playing with the ring on her left, her expression so uncomfortable as if she wishes to be anywhere but here. And still she called me, and came, and I wonder if there’s hope for her – and Brian – after all. 

 

“So,” I say, putting down the spoon, “what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” Of course I already know this is about Brian, but I still ask, hoping to get her to talk. 

 

Her hands fidget again, and a frown appears on her face. She’s averting her eyes, and her gaze doesn’t seem able to focus on anything. “I … I’m so sorry for what happened at your house the other day.”

 

I am too, but probably for entirely different reasons. “No need to apologize, Joan. I just wish you and Brian could work out your differences.” 

 

“He’s so … angry. And I know it’s mostly my fault, but I ... didn’t know how to help him.” She shakes her head, “I talked to my minister again. Reverend Tom says that I shouldn’t stop trying.” Now her eyes are on me, hopeless eyes, eyes of a mother who lost a child and has no idea how to get that special someone back again. “I just don’t know where to start.”

 

Giving her a sad smile, I take a sip from my coffee before I start, “Unfortunately I don’t have the solution for that. Justin and I had our share of problems, but Justin’s so different from Brian …,” I trail off, hoping she will understand what I’m talking about. 

 

“You heard what he said at your house. He doesn’t want me in his life. I did horrible things to him, Jennifer, horrible things.” Her eyes tear up slightly, “Today I can hardly believe what I did. How can he forgive me?”

 

“Maybe he never will,” I say finally, and ignore the shocked gasp from her. “There are things people can’t forgive. But maybe you can both find a way to move beyond it. To simply move on and find common ground for the future.” I give her an encouraging smile, “He has two beautiful children. You could be their grand-mother, and maybe they’ll help you to find a way back to your son?”

 

“You think?” For the first time I can see faint hope in her eyes. 

 

“Well, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?” The last thing I want is to get her hopes up just to have them destroyed later. Even though things I’ve heard about this woman disgust me, I have a firm belief in second chances. People can change, I’ve seen it myself, and Joan Kinney seems determined. Why else would she seek out my company to hear advice, why else would she risk pain and rejection? 

 

“Y-yes,” she agrees hesitantly. “The boy … he looks just like Brian at that age.” There’s a tender expression in her eyes that gives me hope. Hope? Jesus, am I really thinking these thoughts? There have been times I couldn’t care less about Brian Kinney, but Justin seems set on spending the rest of his life with this man, and knowing my son, all I can do is accept it. And especially after the fiasco with Ethan, I don’t really trust my own instincts. Ethan seemed so perfect, and they seemed to be so in love. I thought he was what Justin needed only to find out how horribly wrong I was. And the man who I resented for stealing my son, this man, Brian Kinney, might be Justin’s salvation in the end. And mine. I still can hardly believe he gave me half a million to pay off Hollis. 

 

“His name is Gus,” I say, forcing myself to concentrate on the woman sitting across the table in this beautiful new coffee shop near the University. 

 

“And … the girl?”

 

“Justin and Brian call her Sara, but she hasn’t gotten an official name yet. From what I understand it was Justin who named her.” Like Gus, I add silently, but don’t tell her. I’m not sure reminding her of the fact that Justin was Brian’s lover at the age of seventeen would be a wise move right now. 

 

“That’s … sweet.” She forces a smile on her face, and sighs, “I have a hard time getting used to the idea of two men …,” she trails off, and bites her lower lip. 

 

Tell me about it. Not that I had a problem thinking about gay people. I even knew several while I was at college. And I had this nagging feeling about Justin, long before it became official that he was gay, but it’s always so much easier to talk about homosexuals in general. “When I was faced with the fact that Justin was gay … I’m afraid I didn’t really act that way a mother should.”

 

“Oh?” She’s surprised, but seems interested, so I go on.

 

“I always thought he might … I mean, he was so … so sweet. Even as a boy, he was not like the others. He never liked doing all the boy’s stuff.” I see something flicker through her eyes and shake my head, “No, he didn’t play with dolls. But he was very artistic, always interested in finer things. He liked to cook, loved when his grand-mother taught him to. But when he finally told me, or rather I found out, it was still a shock.” 

 

While I’m talking she’s leaned towards me, “What did you do?”

 

I sigh, not very proud of my own reaction. “I forced him to see a therapist.” I have to laugh thinking back. Justin’s famous cock-speech. God, I was so embarrassed, and shocked. “He made it clear that it was not what he wanted or needed. He was gay, so what? I … finally accepted it. It was either that or losing him. Craig, my husband, couldn’t accept it. His relationship with Justin … is strained at best.”

 

“Brian told his father … my husband died of cancer several years ago.” 

 

“I heard,” I tell her, not sure how to react. From what Justin told me, the relationship between Brian’s parents wasn’t the best. 

 

And her reaction makes it clear. With a slashing motion of her right hand she dismisses the fact. “Brian told him. I only found out by … chance.”

 

Yes, I know that one, too. Justin told me, he could never really keep things from me. “How about your daughter? Did she know about Brian?”

 

“Yes,” she nods. “Claire knew. Much longer than we. She obviously found out when they were quite young. She’s the older of the two children. She has two boys. One of them is almost grown up now.”

 

“Do you see them often?”

 

“No,” she shakes her head. “They moved to San Diego three years ago. Claire met this accountant and got re-married. She took the boys with her, because their father wasn’t really interested in them.”

 

“It must be hard, having them so far away, I mean.” I smile at her, and she returns it.

 

“It was … at first. I visited them a while ago and the move seems to have done them good. Clair has … she used to be angry too. She seems so much happier now. Gordon, her husband, is a very nice man. She has a little daughter now.” She blushes slightly, and adds, “Joan.” 

 

Not sure what to say, I never was one for naming kids after ancestors, I decide to for another smile. “That’s so nice.” Emptying the my cup, I look at her, “Now, what do you say? How about seeing your grand-children?”

 

*****

 

Lying on my sofa, eyes closed, the music loud enough to shut out the rest of the world, and preferable all thoughts of Carl, or worse, Brian, I almost miss the ringing of the doorbell. Frowning at the intrusion of my misery, I get up with a sigh, and couldn’t be more surprised to find Melanie standing there. 

 

“Mel?” I ask, stepping back and motioning her inside. 

 

“Michael,” she gives me a tentative smile, the first I’ve seen on her face since Linds died. “I heard you were back.”

 

“I am,” I reply, even though it’s kind of stupid. I mean, I’m here, so it’s pretty obvious. 

 

Biting her lip, she stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, “Ah … uh … how was your trip?”

 

How about – for shit? “Okay. I think I got some things worked out.” Oh yeah, try for nothing. I so hoped that going away for a couple of weeks would help me clear my head, and finally put all this shit with Brian to rest, but instead it’s worse than ever. Instead of getting over him, I had to see him the moment my feet touched the ground. Maybe I needed that final stab he gave me, but geez … I could’ve done without it. God, this is such shit! And on top of it, Carl refused to reconcile. No, while I was away he has met this great guy at Babylon and they want to wait and see if it works between them. 

 

Raking my fingers through my short hair, I force myself to be there for a friend in need and not to let my impatience show. The last I need right now is dealing with other people’s problems. I really have enough of my own. 

 

“Hey,” Mel flashes me a quick smile, and shifts uncomfortably on her feet. “That’s good.”

 

“Yeah.” So good. Now I’ve lost my best friend and the man who might have been the one to share my life with. Really good. “So,” I offer her a seat but she reclines, “what’s the matter? Can I help you somehow?”

 

“Yeah,” again she bites her lip, casts her eyes to the ground for a moment, then looks back up at me. “I know this might come as a surprise … but … Michael, would you marry me?” 

 

*****

 

“Hello, Brian,” Peter greets me with his usual smile, but something flickers through his eyes when I step into his office around two. 

 

“Peter,” I smile back and take the offered seat, and the cup of coffee he places in front of me. I really didn’t want to come, I have a meeting scheduled with Fiona later in the afternoon, but Peter insisted we had to meet, and the guy helped me and Justin so much, I couldn’t very well say no. 

 

“How are you?” he asks, and I raise my brows. 

 

“I thought this wasn’t supposed to be a therapy session.”

 

He laughs a little nervously, and I narrow my eyes. “Sorry,” he apologizes, “habit, I guess.”

 

“It’s okay. So,” I pick up the cup and take a sip from the great coffee he always serves, “why did you want to see me?”

 

He shifts in his chair, and for a moment seems to scrutinize me before he sighs, “I need to talk to you. About … the sessions.”

 

I swallow the hot brew and frown, “What about them?” I never expected it, but two years of therapy really helped me to deal with my issues. There are still a lot left, but I think with Peter’s help I can work them out, given enough time.

 

He blows out a sharp breath, and I can see he’s clearly uncomfortable about the subject he wants to discuss. Instantly my inner alarm bells start to ring. “Brian,” he starts, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but … I don’t feel that I can be your therapist anymore.”

 

Okay, call me an idiot for not expecting this, but I really, really didn’t. “What?” I shout, surging from my chair, and starting to pace. At the window I stop and turn around, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“I’m sorry,” he looks at me with honest regret in his eyes, “that I have to do this, but it wouldn’t be right if we continued as we have.”

 

Feeling as if someone is trying to shove me off a cliff, I shake my head, “I … don’t understand this. Is it something I did?” Then suddenly a thought comes to my mind, “Do you have problems? Do you need money?” Not that I expect him to. He has enough patients and all of them pay good money, but it never hurts to ask. If there’s anything I can help him with …

 

“No,” he holds up a hand and looks … ashamed. Ashamed? What the fuck? “Brian, I’m fine. I don’t have problems, but things have … happened that makes it impossible for me to continue as your therapist. It would be … unethical.”

 

“Unethical?” I echo, the word tasting like acid on my tongue. My gut starts to clench and my stomach protests. “How?”

 

He finally stands up, too, and moves to the other side of the room, as far away from me as possible. “I’m so sorry, Brian, but … I … have done something no therapist should ever do. I’ve fallen for one of my patients.”

 

A punch in the gut couldn’t be more surprising right now. “For one of your …” Oh, shit. “Are you talking about me?” I ask incredulously. 

 

But he shakes his head, “No, it’s not you.” 

 

I give him a wry smile, “Not sure if I should feel relieved or insulted.”

 

He smiles too, but only for a moment, then he’s serious again. “It’s not you … it’s … Justin.”

 

For a moment my mind is totally blank, and then a pounding starts right behind my forehead, promising to develop into a full blown migraine in a few minutes. “Justin?” I ask, dumbfounded. Did he really say Justin? He fell for Justin?

 

“Yes,” he nods, shame written all over his face. “I never … I assure you, it wasn’t … I never even guessed there could be something, I mean, apart from anything else, he was so in love with you, but then you left … and …” He trails off, his face sporting numerous hectic red spots, and I can see his hands are trembling as he combs his fingers through his hair. 

 

And then it hits me, a red haze starting to swim in front of my eyes, “What do you mean,” I ask slowly, “I left? Did something happen while I was gone?”

 

“Nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly for my taste. “Brian, I promise, nothing happened. Justin was devastated, and one night he was drunk and came to my house and-“

 

I’m not even aware that I crossed the room, or that I must have grabbed the front of his shirt. Only when I hear him gasp, I blink and realize I’ve pushed him up against the wall. Taking a step back, I take a deep breath, hoping to calm myself down. It doesn’t help. The pounding behind my forehead is worse now, and the blood is rushing through my ears. “What?” I ask, my voice low and dangerous. 

 

“We kissed. Nothing happened beyond that. He was drunk and he though I was you.” I can barely follow his words, even though he’s desperate to make me listen. He grabs my forearm, “Brian, listen to me, he really thought I was you. He was never interested in me. I swear. But I … I realized that I wasn’t completely unaffected. Therefore I can’t treat you anymore. It would be a conflict of interest.”

 

The words swim in my head, and all I can think is that while I was gone, Peter and Justin … “NO,” I shout, taking a step back from him, shaking my head emphatically. “NO.”

 

“Brian, please,” his voice is frantic now, “Brian, please.”

 

But I don’t want to. I thought he was my therapist, even my friend, and he betrayed me. And Justin … No, I can’t think about that right now. “Fuck you,” I shout and storm from the office.

 

*****

 

“Are you completely out of your mind?” I stare at Melanie, trying to decide if I’m suddenly in the middle of some fucking nightmare or if I really heard her ask me to marry her. 

 

She gives a short nervous laugh, “Somehow I expected you to react like this.”

 

“Oh,” I glare at her, then turn away, wondering what I did to deserve this. “Well, at least you’re still partially sane.” Shaking my head, I turn back to her, “Okay, let me ask one question. Are you still a lesbian?”

 

Again she laughs, “Yeah. I’m not in love with you or anything. But I need a husband.”

 

“Oh well, that makes it totally clear. NOT! What the fuck is going on?”

 

She blows air from her lungs, and sucks it back in, “I need a husband so I can keep my kids.”

 

Not understanding any of this, I frown, “Why? Is someone threatening to take them away?”

 

A look of utter disgust crosses her face and I take a step back. I always liked Mel, but sometimes I was also a little afraid. She can be a mean bitch if she wants. “Your best friend,” she says.

 

My best … “Brian? Are you nuts, Brian would never want full custody of his kids. He even gave you his parental rights before he left town.” The idea of Brian suing for custody is so completely ridiculous I almost want to laugh. But Melanie’s expression lets the laughter die in my throat. “You’re serious?” 

 

“Yes,” she blows out another breath, and nods. “I’m not sure what happened, but all of a sudden he’s taken an interest in the kids. I … obtained a restraining order against him, so he would have to keep away from us, but he hired some hot shot lawyer who blew the thing into pieces in barely two hours.”

 

“A restraining order?” I ask incredulously. “Why did you do such a thing?”

 

She gives an angry shake of her head, “That’s really not the point here. The point is, I’m expecting him to sue for custody any day now. And even though things might be better where homosexual parents are concerned, but I’m smart enough to understand that a dyke is still less than a gay man in front of a judge.”

 

Scratching my head, I stare at her in disbelief, wondering if Linds’ death has done something to her brain. “So he hasn’t sued for custody yet?”

 

“Not yet,” she confirms. “But he will. Fiona McKinley is a force I can’t ignore.”

 

“Fiona McKinley?” I never heard that name in my life.

 

“His lawyer. She’s one of the best when dealing with custody. Expensive, too. But I suppose that’s no problem for Brian.”

 

“No, I guess nod,” I agree. “But, Mel. Why don’t you just talk to Brian?” I still don’t get it. I know, Mel and Brian never got along that well, but they’re adults. Shouldn’t they been able to put their differences aside for the sake of the kids?

 

She doesn’t seem to listen to me, her eyes are a little unfocussed now, and she stares out of the window into the distance. “I can’t wait for him to make the first move. The kids are all I’ve left of her. I can’t lose them.”

 

“Mel,” I try for the last time, “I don’t think Brian would do such a thing.” And honestly, I don’t. Brian loves Gus. He would do anything for the boy. Gus loves Mel, Brian knows that. 

 

Blazing eyes focus on me, and then she walks to the door, “I know this was stupid. You’re on his side, of course.”

 

“This isn’t about sides,” I try to reason, but she doesn’t listen. 

 

“Well, fuck you. But I’m not going to lose my kids, you can tell that your friend and his hot-shot lawyer. Do you hear me?”

 

I don’t even have the time to say yes. She’s gone in a flash, slamming the door behind her.

 

*****

 

It’s almost midnight when I hear a noise from the door. Shutting down the television, I couldn’t concentrate on it anyway, I run a nervous hand through my hair and look up when the door opens and Brian stumbles inside. I don’t need to take a sniff to see he’s stone drunk, but I feel a pain in my heart when I see his fly is partially unbuttoned, and his hair mused. Not that I expected anything else.

 

When Peter called in the afternoon and told me what happened, I wanted to scream. I was so angry with him for doing something like that behind my back, and I told him so. After I had calmed down enough to listen, he told me that he knew I was right and that he could hardly believe he’d done something like that, but that he felt that even though he knew that he had behaved like an idiot, I still needed to know what had happened. I agreed with him on that one, then slammed the receiver down, banning Peter Gray from my life once and for all. I really had hopes we would be able to be friends some time in the future, but now I don’t want to go near him again. Plus, the whole attraction thing he admitted to me during our short, and very loud, conversation really freaks me out. 

 

“Hey, Sonnyboy,” Brian slurs, stumbling to the bar and pouring himself another drink – one he really doesn’t need. “You’re still up. Did your lover-boy call you with the news?”

 

Sighing, I get up and walk over to him, taking the glass from him before he can drink. “You’ve had enough.” 

 

He grins stupidly, “Yes, mom.” 

 

“Brian, where have you been?” I ask patiently, forcing myself to stay calm at the sight of his shirt being buttoned the wrong way. Three guesses where he has been or what he did. 

 

“Fucking,” he replies, leering at me. “You remember that, Sunshine, right? Fucking. Honest. Unlike you.”

 

I close my eyes for a moment before I look at him again, “Nothing happened between me and Peter,” I say, knowing that he doesn’t really want to listen right now, even if he could. 

 

“You still fucked me over,” he says, stepping away from me. “I don’t even know why I was so surprised. I should’ve been used to it by now.”

 

Tears well up in my eyes, and I have to bit my lip. “Brian-“

 

“Save it,” he hisses, glaring at me murderously. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

 

“I love you,” I whisper, knowing that there’s nothing I can do right now. But maybe he will at least hear that.

 

“I love you,” he mocks. “I told you before, it means shit.” 

 

Oh God. My heart breaks for him, and I want to have Peter right in front of me, so I can hit him. Hard. How could he do this? Feeling tired and drained and completely overwhelmed with the situation, I walk over to him and even though he tries to evade me, pull off his jacket, “Why don’t you take a shower?” He reeks like a bar, and I really don’t want to smell other men on him. I couldn’t take it, even though I can’t be angry with him. I know he’s hurting, and he’s reacted the way he always has. Trying to fuck and drink himself into oblivion. 

 

“A shower?” he looks at me as if the idea is completely foreign to him. Then he blinks, “Yeah. Good idea.” He turns and walks up the stairs, shrugging off his clothes while he does it. I follow him, picking everything up. Finally naked, he pauses in the doorway of the bathroom, and blinks at me one last time, “What are you still doing here? I don’t want you around. I’m sure Peter will only too happy to take you in.”

 

And all I can do is stare dumbfounded at the closed door.


	12. Wild Shores

When I wake up the next morning a pounding headache and rolling nausea instantly remind me why I gave up excessive drinking a few years ago. Groaning, I force myself out of bed and into the bathroom. After relieving myself and a quick shower, I feel half-way human again, and wrapped into my robe I walk down the stairs only to find Justin sitting on one of the stools at the counter. 

 

For a moment I stop, recalling yesterday’s events, then sigh when I see him holding out a glass for me. Taking it, I sip and grimace, “God, I hate the taste of Aspirin.” He says nothing, just watches me, and I sigh again, “So, you’re still here.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, only raises his brow. 

 

“I didn’t really want you to leave,” I admit, downing the remaining contents of the glass, shuddering at the taste. 

 

“I figured,” he replies with a slight smile, only to get serious again. “I’m so sorry for what happened with Peter. He had no right-“

 

“Justin,” I stop him, “it’s okay. I’m an idiot. When he told me you kissed I kind of freaked.“

 

He grins at that, “No shit.”

 

I can’t stop my own grin in return. “I kind of went into pain management mode.”

 

His expression darkens at that and I see pain flicker through his blue depths. “I know,” is all he says, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make me feel like the world’s worst heel. Shit. 

 

But what can I say that doesn’t make it worse? Not that we ever talked about being exclusive this time around, I even told him that I would have a hard time being monogamous, but somehow we kind of slipped into it. “I … uh … went to Babylon.”

 

For a moment he looks at me, “Did you see Fiona? Because you had-“

 

A little irritated at the way he seems to ignore that I fucked around – and can’t believe I’m even thinking that – I interrupt, “Don’t worry. I went to see her. I don’t want to risk her eating my balls by missing an appointment. I’m afraid I didn’t hear a lot she said, though.”

 

This time the sigh comes from his mouth, “Brian, why didn’t you just come and talk to me?”

 

“Because I’m not as smart as you?” I say, grimacing at his frown. “I … when Peter told me you two were … I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore.”

 

A twinkle appears in his eyes, “You were jealous.” 

 

“No,” I deny, and I wasn’t. Not really. It has nothing to do with jealousy. 

 

“You so were.”

 

“No, I wasn’t,” I say firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. “I felt betrayed. By you, by him. I trusted you both, Justin. It’s completely different from being jealous.”

 

At the word betrayed his eyes start to tear up. “I’m sorry,” he sniffles. “I should’ve told you. But frankly, I kind of forgot about it. I … had no idea things were really serious for Peter. I mean, he said that because of what happened he couldn’t be my therapist anymore. And when I met him a few days ago, I kind of … I don’t know I got a strange vibe-“

 

“You met him?” I ask, wanting to cut my tongue at the way this came out. 

 

Again the twinkle appears in his eyes, “So not jealous, huh?”

 

Annoyed, I roll my eyes, “You met him…”

 

“Ah … yes. In a bookshop. He apparently knows the owner and we talked. Just, you know, small talk. Nothing serious. I forgot about it later on. Seems he didn’t.” We share a look and he asks, “So what happened with Fiona?”

 

I rub my forehead, trying to remember what we actually talked about. “As I said, I was a little out of it, but I think I still got that she wants me to sue for custody.”

 

His eyes widen, “She does?”

 

“Yeah.” I walk behind the counter and pour myself a cup of coffee, glad that the aspirin has managed to reduce the pounding in my head to a slight knocking. “It seems that Mel showed up at court when Fiona went there to get the restraining order withdrawn. I think she didn’t tell me everything that happened, but quoting my lawyer, ‘Melanie Marcus seems to come unhinged in a serious way’.”

 

“Oh boy,” he comments. “She really thinks Mel’s gonna lose it?”

 

I shrug. I’m not sure I could really tell the difference where Mel’s concerned. To me, she was always kind of insane. “Fiona seemed certain. She all but urged me to give her green light.”

 

Justin seems to contemplate the news for a moment. “So, what are you gonna do?”

 

Savoring the rich taste of coffee – Justin’s always was the best -, I shake my head, “I have no fucking idea. I don’t know if I can take care of the kids. One of them isn’t even a month old. Do I even want to have them around full time?” I pause, and look at him, “What about you?” 

 

“Me?” He seems clearly surprised by the question.

 

I have to smile. Justin knows me so well. Never assume, never push, he’s learned all the lessons. “Well,” I move towards him and take his hand, “you live here, too. You’re my … boyfriend, I guess. Can you live with two small kids around you all the time?”

 

His eyes grow into saucers, and then the most stupid grin breaks free. God, the kid’s so obvious it sometimes hurts. “You mean…,” he starts, then catches himself. “Uh … it would be okay for me, I guess.”

 

“You guess?” 

 

He shrugs, “I have no experience with kids. Ethan couldn’t stand them. But I kind of liked babysitting Gus. He’s a great kid. Molly was a pain, though.”

 

“Sara is a girl, too,” I remind him, 

 

He looks at me in mock horror, “Think you can stand changing her diapers and looking at pussy all the time?”

 

I laugh, “I know all about pussy.” 

 

“So do I.”

 

“One,” I grin, “you saw one. Daphne’s”

 

He blushes at that, “Uh … actually … I might have fucked her, but I never … looked.”

 

We stare at each other and a second later burst out laughing. “Fuck. How are we gonna do that?” I ask, not really addressing anybody with the question.

 

“You might not have another choice,” he says after he’s calmed down. His eyes are teary, but in a good way this time. They’re shining with intense blue and I can understand why Peter fell for him. Fuck, I can understand it. Period. “If Fiona is right, and Mel’s really losing it …” he trails off, but I know what he’s talking about. Who would want their kids with a parent who’s coming unhinged? 

 

“At least I don’t have to decide today. With the weekend coming, I’ve got two days to think about it.”

 

Another silence settles between us, and he’s about to ask something when we hear a knock at the door. A glance at the clock tells me that it’s almost noon. It’s just as well that I took the last two days off. Next week’s going to be hell, though. I have this new account I have to take care of. Walking to the door I wonder if Justin might be interesting in doing some animations for me. I’m still contemplating the idea when I tear the door open and find Michael standing there, looking like death warmed over.

 

I raise a brow at him, trying not to let my surprise show at him coming to see me only a couple of days after our last painful encounter. “Mikey,” I say, “you look like shit.”

 

He grimaces, “I feel like it, too. Can I come in?”

 

I feel a stab in my chest to hear him ask. It was never a question that he could come in. But maybe it has to be that way, and maybe, we can somehow work it out in the end. “Sure.” I walk back to the kitchen and pour another cup of coffee, then offer one to him. 

 

He shakes his head, “If I drink another one I’m gonna stay awake for a week.” Finally looking at the third person in the room, he nods, “Hi, Justin.” 

 

“Michael.” Justin frowns slightly and we exchange a glance. Neither of us know what this all about. But I’m sure we’re gonna find out soon. 

 

“I’m sorry for turning up without calling,” he starts, slipping onto a stool, “but I didn’t close an eye last night, and as soon as I could get hold of Marty, I had to come over.”

 

Marty is the guy who sometimes helps out at the comic book store. He’s twenty- one and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he’s Michael’s long lost brother. He looks like a younger carbon copy of him. “So, shoot.”

 

“You’re not gonna believe this,” he says, rubbing a palm over his face. “Mel came to see me yesterday night.”

 

“She did?” Justin asks, more surprised than I am. Somehow I expected a move like that. Mel might be nuts, but she isn’t stupid. She of all people must have felt that things weren’t all that well between Michael and I. 

 

Mikey frowns before he goes on. “She … oh man, this is so totally crazy, but she wanted me to marry her.”

 

“WHAT?” Justin shouts incredulously, then blushes at his outburst. “Oh, sorry. I mean … she did, what?”

 

I’m on the other hand have a hard time making my brain believe what my ears have heard. “Did you just say what I think you said?” I ask, wondering if that dumbfounded voice is really mine. I never thought Melanie Marcus could surprise me, but now she has. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Michael nods his head, and with another frown reaches for my mug and sips. “She was kind of strange, too. I tried to tell her that you would never take the kids from her-“ He stops in mid-sentence and his eyes focus on mine, “Did you really hire a hot-shot lawyer to sue for custody?”

 

It’s strangely comforting that he’s so easily slipped back into friend-mode. It’s annoying, too, but oddly enough I don’t mind. “I hired a lawyer, yes. But what was I supposed to do when she sent me a restraining order. But I didn’t sue for custody.” Yet, I add, silently, Fiona’s words coming back to me. ‘The woman isn’t sane, Brian. If I was you, I wouldn’t hesitate a second to get the children away from her. There’s no way of knowing what she might do to them.’ I argued that Mel would never hurt the kids, but she looked at me with serious eyes and said, ‘You didn’t see her yesterday afternoon, Brian. The woman I saw was this close,’ she left an inch between thumb and forefinger, ‘from snapping.’

 

“She was convinced you would,” Michael says, emptying my cup, then holding it out for a refill. 

 

With a smirk, I pour the coffee, “I might have no choice. Fiona, my lawyer, urges me to do it. She says Mel’s insane.”

 

I see Justin’s head snapping around at that, and worried blue eyes lock with mine. “And now Michael says the same.”

 

“Whoa,” Mikey holds up a hand, “I didn’t say she was nuts or anything. But she was … strange. She didn’t really listen.” He sighs and rubs his forehead. “Shit, why did Linds have to die?”

 

I feel a pang in my heart at that. But there is no use in asking such a question, because there is no answer. I wish I knew why things happen, and if there’s a reason, or maybe I don’t. Who the fuck knows anything anyway. All we can do is try not to drown and live the best we can. I look at Justin and my heart beats a little faster. What did I ever do to deserve him? And yet, he’s here. Maybe I’m just a damn lucky guy. 

 

“What did you say?”

 

Justin’s question pulls me back to the present, and to Michael who looks at my lover as if he’s the one going insane. “What I said? I told her she was nuts.” The words are so outraged I have to smile. 

 

“Right,” I grin, “what would you do with pussy anyway.”

 

Justin’s eyes narrow at that. “Are we back at that again?”

 

Michael’s gaze darts back and forth between us, “Huh? What the hell are you two talking about?”

 

Justin shrugs, but grins, “I was wondering if Brian could stand seeing pussy each day. That’s all.”

 

“Okay, maybe it’s something in the air, because you guys are so weird.” Michael rolls his eyes and empties his cup. 

 

“It’s okay, Mikey. Just before you came, Justin and I were discussing if suing for custody was an option.”

 

“And?” he asks, clearly not getting it.

 

“And, if I should get the kids, it would also mean changing Sara’s diaper.”

 

Again he frowns, “Sara?”

 

“That’s what I call my daughter,” I explain, reminding myself that Michael knows nothing about Justin choosing a name. 

 

“Ah,” he nods, finally understanding. “Do you think you could take care of the kids full time?”

 

I shrug, “I might not have a choice. If Mel’s really having problems, I might need to. But Gus loves her. I know that. And I want him to be happy.”

 

“That’s what I told her,” Michael says with a smile. “But she wouldn’t listen. Maybe … maybe you should do what your lawyer says.”

 

I sigh, rubbing my face. “I wish I knew what is right.”

 

“Maybe I could talk to her,” Justin offers, but I shake my head. 

 

“No, right now she’d probably see you as an enemy. But thanks.” I reach out and touch his arm, but restrain myself from kissing. No need to rub Michael’s face in it right now. It was a big step for him to come over and behave as if nothing’s happened. I don’t have to make him feel miserable in return. 

 

“I’m going to get dressed now,” I announce, strolling towards the bedroom. “Play nice while I’m gone, boys.” I grin at the outraged noises behind me. Maybe a little rubbing doesn’t hurt, and maybe at least one good thing will come out of this whole mess. I hear Justin’s and Michael’s laughter and smile at myself in the mirror as I start to shave. Compared to last night, today looks outright shiny.

 

*****

 

Feeling nervous to the core, nervous in a way I haven’t for a long, long time, I pat trembling hands to my hair and take a deep breath before ringing the bell of a house I’ve never seen before. Beside me, Jennifer smiles. I’ll never be able to repay her for what she’s doing for me. Or maybe she’s doing it for her son, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m just glad she’s here, standing next to me, lending moral support. Not to forget that, unlike me, she knows this woman who is the mother to my grand-children. I have to get used to the idea of a woman being a mother without actually being one biologically. 

 

After a moment I hear a noise from the inside, and then the door opens revealing a woman with brownish hair, her eyes blood-shot the way the get from too much crying. Her face, although not old, looks haggard, and her hand trembles slightly on the door-knob. “Yes?” she asks, but then notices Jennifer and her eyes widen. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

I flinch at the crude language, but stifle a sigh. I’m here for my grand-children, nothing else, I tell myself firmly. “Miss Marcus?” I ask, as politely as possible.

 

Irritated eyes focus on me, “What do you want?”

 

Clearing my throat, I force down the urge to just turn and leave. “My name is Joan. Joan Kinney.” 

 

“I know who you are. We met at your husband’s funeral,” she says. I don’t remember her, but I don’t tell her that. Suddenly she laughs harshly, “Oh, that’s rich. And here I thought you were such a bitch, but obviously Brian’s not above using even his mother.”

 

Bewildered and not able to follow her, I take a step back. Jennifer, however, stands her ground, even though she’s not less shocked by the sudden attack. “Melanie, I’m sorry we came without calling but you didn’t answer the phone. Joan wanted to see her grand-children.”

 

“Oh, did she now?” Again the woman laughs, and her eyes flash. “Well, doesn’t that beat everything? You never gave a rat’s ass about them, and all of a sudden you want to play Granny-dearest? Well, lady, over my dead body. You’re not going to infect Gus and my daughter with the poison that turned Brian into such an asshole.”

 

Rendered speechless I can only stare at her. What kind of person is this? And how can Brian let his children grow up under her influence? I shake my head and wonder if I should rather leave, but the decision is taken from me when a pair of blue eyes suddenly appears at Melanie’s thigh, and a small hand reaches out to me. “Hi,” the boy, who no doubt is my grand-son, says with a smile, “I’m Gus, I’m almost six.”

 

Feeling instant tears in my eyes, I take the offered hand. “Hi, I’m Joan.”

 

His grin widens, when he gets aware of Jennifer. “Hi,” he repeats, and it’s clearly visible than he knows her. I feel a pang of shame. What kind of grand-mother am I? My grand-son knows the mother of my son’s … partner, but not me? 

 

“Hi, Gus,” Jennifer smiles at him, and ruffles his hair. Then, without taking her eyes off the child, she adds, “How about you invite us in, Mel?”

 

There’s a tense moment and for a second I actually expect her to slam the door in our faces, despite the presence of her son, but then she steps back, and we follow her into what seems to be the living-room. 

 

“Now that you’re here,” Melanie turns to look at us, “can I get you something? Coffee?”

 

“Not for me,” Jennifer declines, and I shake my head, not wanting this woman to feel as if she needs to serve me. Even though she now tries, I can still feel the anger in her. 

 

“Who are you?” Gus asks after a moment. 

 

“Should make you happy,” Melanie snaps at that. “Your own grand-son doesn’t even know you.”

 

“Grand-son?” Gus blinks at his mother, then at me. “Are you my grand-mom?”

 

Suppressing a glare at the woman’s insensitivity, I take a deep breath and concentrate on the little boy in front of me. “Yes. I’m your daddy’s mother.”

 

“Dadda,” he cries happily, looking around as if he’s expecting Brian to turn up this very moment. When he realizes Brian’s not here, he frowns, “Can I see Dadda?”

 

The question in directed at his mother, whose eyes narrow. “Maybe later,” she tells him curtly, and again I wonder why Brian lets her take care of his children. I don’t know about legal arrangements between them, but even though I was far from being a stellar parent myself, I can’t see this woman giving a child the loving surroundings he clearly needs. And Gus is such an adorable child. 

 

Not happy with his mother’s answer, Gus frown deepens, and he stomps one foot on the ground, “But I wanna go see him.” 

 

“I said later,” Melanie snaps. Suddenly she takes a deep breath and runs her fingers through her hair, “Gus, I’m sorry. I promise you can see your Dadda. Why don’t you talk to your grand-mother for a moment,” she offers. Her eyes flicker at Jennifer, “Could I talk to you for a moment in the kitchen?”

 

After a short hesitation, Mrs. Taylor nods and follows, giving me a last encouraging smile before she leaves. 

 

When I feel a hand touching mine, I look down, and find Gus staring up at me, “How come you never came before?”

 

Wishing there was an easy explanation for that, I decide for something he might understand, “Your father and I … we weren’t friends for a long time, Gus. I’m really sorry I didn’t meet you sooner.”

 

His head tilts to the right side in a way I remember from another little boy thirty years ago. My heart hurts at the memory. “Are you friends now?” Gus wants to know.

 

“I hope we will be soon,” I reply, knowing deep inside that it’s what I really want, even though I have no idea how to achieve it. Will Brian ever let me back into his life? Will he trust me enough to open up to me? No, I will not wish for the impossible. If Brian allows me back into his life and that of his children I will be happy. And that reminds me … “I heard you have a little sister.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Gus nods, and his nose scrunches. “She cries a lot. Mommy died ‘cause of her.”

 

He says it matter-of-factly, and without anger in his voice, but it still leaves me with a shock I’m barely able to control. My first instinct is to get up and confront the woman in the kitchen, to ask her what goes on in her head to plant something like in her son’s mind. Stifling the urge, I concentrate on Gus instead. “Your Mommy didn’t die because of your sister, Gus,” I tell him, keeping my voice gentle. “She became very ill.”

 

“Uh-huh,” he nods again, absentmindedly looking at the doorway. “Dadda calls her Sara, but Mom doesn’t like the name.” He starts nodding his head to an unheard rhythm and my concern grows. I want to call my son and tell him to get his children now. Of course I can’t do that. For once he would probably hang up the moment he hears my voice, and … well, I don’t know enough of Melanie Marcus and her relationship with her two children for a final judgement. 

 

“Gus?” Melanie’s voice coming from the kitchen doorway startles us both. The boy’s head snaps around. “Please go to your room now.”

 

“Awwww, Mom,” he tries to argue, but she shakes her head and there must be something in her eyes that makes him sigh and stomp away. In the doorway he stops and turns, “Bye, bye Grandma.”

 

“Bye, Gus,” I reply, wishing I could take him in my arms, just once. But I know it’s too early. He barely knows me and I should be glad that he’s accepted me so easily. 

 

Gus is barely gone when Jennifer appears behind Melanie, her face an angry mask. She brushes past the other woman without another glance and walks over to me. “Joan,” she says, her smile clearly forced, “are you ready to leave?” 

 

“Of course. Is everything alright?” It clearly isn’t, but glancing at Miss Marcus I know it’s not the time and place to discuss it. 

 

“I’m fine,” Jennifer says quickly and without further comment walks toward the front door. I follow, but turn, “Goodbye, Miss Marcus. Thank you for letting me see Gus.”

 

“Next time you want to come around, call,” is all she replies, her eyes hot and angry. 

 

“I … I will,” I promise, hurrying after Jennifer who’s already reached the car and is waiting for me. Reaching her, I take a deep breath, “What an … unpleasant woman.” I barely know her, but I can’t help myself. 

 

“She didn’t used to be that way,” Jennifer explains. “I don’t know what happened, but I had the most disturbing conversation with her in the kitchen.” She shakes her head and suddenly smiles at me, “Did you enjoy your visit with Gus?”

 

“Oh yes, but-,” I break off, not sure if I should say anything, then decide that Jennifer might want to hear it. “He seems troubled. His mother obviously told him that his sister is the cause for his … I mean for the death of Lindsay.”

 

“Oh no,” shocked, Jennifer presses her fingers over her lips. “Joan, I know we agreed to have a coffee afterwards. But I think I need to see Brian and Justin.”

 

“Oh!” Understanding instantly, I nod, “Of course. You should.”

 

“Yes,” she agrees, opening the passenger door for me. 

 

We don’t talk on our way to my house and when I get out we say good-bye and I watch her drive away, wishing it could be me going to see Brian and Justin. But maybe it’s better that way. I’m not sure if I’m ready to see them. Especially together. But I made a first step today by seeing Gus. Feeling comforted by the thought I enter my house.


	13. Wild Shores

“I don’t wanna.” 

 

I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, then look at my son, who is standing in the middle of the room, staring at me with the most stubborn expression. Somewhere in the house I hear whisper, and irritated I shake my head. Whisper? Concentrating on the boy with the wide eyes, I try for a smile, “Gus, sweetie, please don’t make this difficult for me.” I argue with him. Geez, I can’t believe I’m arguing with a five year old. “I need a few hours to myself, and your grandma will be happy to have you.”

 

“I hate her,” he insists, his lower lips sticking out. Usually his pouts are adorable, right now I want to wring his neck, figuratively speaking, of course. The floor-boards upstairs are cracking and I blink. Nobody’s up there. I try to listen and the noise is gone.

 

“Gus,” I try for my most patient Mom-voice, “I don’t believe you hate her.”

 

“She makes me eat peas. I hate peas. And I have to be all … cleaned up.” He rolls his eyes at the word and makes it sound as if it’s the worst thing in the world. Which it probably is for a five-year old. The problem is, I don’t like Linds’ parents either. Her mother always gives me the creeps. But ever since Linds … Well, she’s been kind and helpful and has been there when my so called friends all seem to side with the asshole. At least he hasn’t showed up yet, rubbing his victory in my face. 

 

God, I wish I weren’t feeling so lonely. It’s like that summer when my parents found out I was a lesbian. I wasn’t welcome in their house anymore, and they treated me like a pariah. It was only thanks to my grand-mother and uncle Izaak that was allowed back into the family circle, but my father never looked at me again. It’s like dying in small steps – and it’s how I feel now. Sometimes I wish I could have gone with her. But there are the kids who need me. And speaking of one of them…

 

“I’ll tell her that you don’t like peas, honey,” I promise him, knowing that Mrs. Peterson won’t care for whatever I say. She has her own idea about rising a child. Linds would probably have a fit if she knew that her mother is taking care of the children, but I really need some time to find a way to deal with Brian. Michael’s refusal to marry me wasn’t really unexpected, but for a moment I let myself hope that his differences with Brian would make him an ally. I should’ve known from the start that, no matter what Brian Kinney does, Michael will always be his nice little lap-dog. Fags just don’t have any backbone. There’s only one stiff part in their anatomy and it just happens not to interest me.

 

Okay, so seeing Michael was for shit, but at least I had kind of an epiphany after I left his apartment. My so called friends were closing ranks around Brian, the asshole, Kinney, so I had to find some new allies to win this battle. Linds’ parents were the first, and I know I can count on them. No way they want their grand-children to grow up with a gay man, especially with someone like Brian. I once tried my hand at math and tried to guess how many men the guy has fucked. I gave up after I reached three thousand. He might be living with Justin now, but we all know how that went the first time around and I know Brian well enough to not expect him to change just because his former boy-toy is back in the picture.

 

“Why I can’t I go to see my Dad?” Lately he’s started calling Brian Dad. Not Dadda, Dad. I wonder if it’s because most kids in school call their fathers that? Dad. It’s strange to think of Brian that way, and I fight the urge to laugh hysterically. Lindsay probably would’ve loved it. Yes, I loved her, and I know she loved me, but I’m not stupid enough to think that deep inside, in a little corner of her blond-blue-eyed-upper-class-girl heart she was still harboring the dream of a normal family – with Brian Kinney. 

Talk about things that make you want to vomit.

 

“I tried to call him,” I lie, I never even punched the number. I will be damned if I deliberately let my kids spend time with the guy who without doubt is planning to take them away for good. “But he wasn’t there. Your grand-mom said it was fine. It will be okay, Gus.” Again the pout appears on his face, and I sigh. “She misses her daughter, honey. You’re all she has left of her.”

 

“How come she never came to see us while Mommy was still here?” he asks, showing me once again that he’s much too perceptive for a five year old kid. Lindsay always said he is as smart as his father. And even though I try my best to ignore it, I have to deal with the results every day. 

 

“Gus, think about it, she gave you that nice fire-truck last time you were with her.” 

 

His eyes narrow at me in a way that reminds me so much of Brian, for a moment I forget how much I miss Linds and curse her. Why did I ever agree for him to be the father of our kids? Why didn’t I dig in my heels and just say no. A nice anonymous donator from the sperm-bank would’ve made beautiful kids too, I’m sure, and wouldn’t have come with all the additional baggage. Sometimes I wonder if Lindsay every really understood what kind of sacrifice I made for her in saying yes? What it meant for me to know that I would be mother to 50% of Brian Kinney.

 

“I hate the truck,” he tosses at me, balling his little hands into fists. “I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.”

 

“Gus, stop it,” I warn, stepping closer to him. 

 

“I hate it. I hate it. I hate it,” he continues his mantra and I’m not sure how and why it happened but suddenly I hear a slapping noise and when reality returns I see the imprints of my fingers clearly showing on Gus’ cheek. 

 

Shocked I suck in a sharp breath, while my son stares at me with huge confusion-filled eyes, that already start to tear up. “Gus-“

 

“And I hate you,” he screams. 

 

I don’t know what to do, or what to say, shock of actually having hit my own child rendering me speech- and motionless. At that moment the doorbell rings. Like a zombie I go to answer it, and find Mrs. Peterson there with a forced smile on her only recently lifted face. “Melanie,” she asks, the moment she sees me, “are you alright?”

 

“Yes, I’m fine,” I answer automatically. Fine. Isn’t that what all people want to hear.

 

“Good,” she replies, and enters the house, instantly spotting Gus. “And there’s my little man. Hi, my darling Gussie.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” he warns, tears running over his eyes. “I hate you.” I’m not which one of us he means, but it doesn’t really matter.

 

Bewildered Mrs. Peterson stops, “What on earth happened?”

 

“Gus… Gus and I had an argument. I’m afraid it got a little out of hand.” Hand being the operative word here. The imprint on Gus’ face is even more prominent than before. 

 

His grand-mother looks at him, then at me, and back at him. “Oh. Well, discipline is something all children have to learn sooner or later. Don’t you think, Gussie.”

 

His eyes brimming with tears, Gus gives her a hateful look, and then directs the same eyes on me. It makes me shiver. God, what have I done? What did I do that my son looks at me that way? 

 

“Gus, please get your coat,” I say, holding back my own tears. I look at Mrs. Peterson, “Your grand-daughter just fell asleep. You can take her with her carrier.”

 

“Alright,” she nods, and follows Gus up the stairs. Only five minutes later they are gone from the house, leaving me on my own, wondering if Gus will ever forgive me? Maybe Mrs. Peterson is right, maybe discipline is something kids have to learn. God, I wish Linds was here. She always knew what to do, always knew how to handle our stubborn son. But she isn’t, not anymore. I take a deep breath and raise my chin. It’s up to me now, and to me only. And if I don’t want to lose what I’ve left of her, I better get going. 

 

Snatching my own coat and the keys I leave the house, hoping that this plan might work after all.

 

*****

 

“Well, he was barely sixteen when he had a big crush on this guy who was a senior, and-“

 

Michael never gets to finish what he is about to tell me because Brian returns from the bedroom, and cuts him off. “I never had a crush on anyone in my life.”

 

“You so did,” Michael replies and for a moment I feel a pang at all the memories they share. They’ve been close for so long, I wonder if I can ever measure up to that. 

 

“Don’t listen to him,” Brian tells me and kisses me soundly on the lips. “He’s always been a liar.” Or maybe I don’t need to. Maybe the fact that he loves me and chose me to spend his live with is enough. 

 

Before he can pull back, I grab his nape and pull him close once again, returning the kiss with a little tongue involved. We part and are both slightly breathless. Oh yeah, definitely enough.

 

“Geez … do you both mind?”

 

Reminding ourselves that Michael is still in the loft, we pull away from each other and Brian gives his friend a good-natured leer. “What? Mikey, you definitely need to get laid.” It’s strange, but all of sudden the two of them act as if there’s never been any outfall, or that Brian made it perfectly clear that any romantic ideas Michael was harboring were nothing but a huge sack full of shit. With all the trouble Mel’s giving us lately, maybe we have to thank her for that. Seems her little visit woke Michael up in a way words couldn’t.

 

“Oh please,” Michael rolls his eyes, and gives me an unexpected ‘how-can-you-take-this-24/7’ look, “I just got dumped by my boyfriend, who I happened to love. I can’t just go around and fuck the next guy.”

 

“Sure you can,” Brian replies, but the words have lost the acid they used to carry years ago. Brian’s changed in so many ways, I wonder if I’ll ever get old enough to discover all his layers. 

 

“Okay, so I could,” Michael agrees with a frown. “I just don’t want to. Maybe … maybe Carl and I-“

 

“Mikey,” Brian interrupts him by putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and looking deeply into his eyes. “Don’t do it. Maybe you and Carl will work out in the end, but don’t start to hunt after another fantasy.”

 

Michael stares at Brian as if his friend has suddenly grown a second head, then blinks, “I can’t believe you of all people are giving me advice on relationships.” He shakes his head on a laugh. 

 

“I don’t know shit about relationships,” Brian agrees, “but I don’t want you to get hurt again, Mikey.”

 

The other man snorts, but his eyes mist a little at that. He clears his throat, “So, if you know shit about relationships, how are you going to do this?”

 

For a moment I tense not sure how Brian’s going to react, especially given his most recent conversations with Michael, but he simply shrugs and looks at me, “Fortunately I’ve got the master to teach me.”

 

I blush at that, but don’t look away, sensing the importance of the moment. Managing a smile, I say, “No master, just determined to make this work.”

 

“Determined, yeah,” Michael agrees with a grin of his own. “That certainly describes Justin Taylor. I’ll never forget the way you stalked him,” he nods pointedly at Brian. “He never knew what hit him.”

 

The other man rolls his eyes, “Shit, are we going down memory lane now? Because if we are, I’d like to remind you of a reception for a certain senator…” He trails off with a tongue in cheek grin and Michael groans loudly.

 

“Please don’t. I promise I’ll be good.”

 

A knock at the door interrupts the almost playful exchange. Brian moves to open it, and my eyes widen when I hear him say, “Jennifer. My house is your house. Come in, join the party.”

 

I roll my eyes at Michael who grins, “Mom, just come in. Brian’s just trying to be funny and failing miserably.” Standing up I move to hug her, sending Brian a glare over her shoulder. In response he batters his lashes at me, the shit. When we pull apart, I look at my mother, “Is everything okay?”

 

“I’m fine, honey,” she assures me with a smile, giving Brian a last, slightly bewildered glance. He sighs and the silly grin on his face disappears. I’m almost sorry to see it go, but know that my mother probably wouldn’t understand it. “I just … I needed to see you because,” again her eyes find Brian and now look at him almost guiltily. My heart beat speeds up. The last thing Brian needs right now is more bad news. 

 

Sighing slightly, my mother bites her lip, “I’m sorry, Brian, if you think I had no right to do it, but your mother asked and-“

 

“What?” he interrupts, his voice bordering on mighty pissed. From silly to mighty pissed in a flash, yup, that’s Brian alright. Sensing that he needs me more than my mother, I let go of her and walk over to him, touching his arm ever so slightly. He gives me an irritated look but doesn’t shake it off. I take that as a good sign. Still, I can feel the tension in him. “What about my mother?” 

 

“I took your mother to see your children,” Mom explains and I tighten my grip on Brian’s arm. Strangely enough he seems to relax.

 

“She wanted to see them?” The incredulousness in his voice almost breaks my heart. I know their relationship is fucked up, but I doubt I even touched the damage his mother’s behavior has really done. How else can you explain his surprise at her wish to see his children? God!

 

“Yes,” Mom confirms. “She … she’s really trying, Brian. And I … just couldn’t send her away.”

 

Brian stares at her for a moment, then pulls away from my touch and walks to the full length window. His back to us, his voice is oddly tight when he asks, “You think she’s serious?” I want to go to him and hug him in the worse way, but I restrain myself knowing instinctively that it would be the wrong thing to do. I can only hope he knows that I’m always with him, no matter what happens. 

 

“She seems serious,” my mother replies, accepting a cup of coffee Michael holds out for her. “She has her own demons to deal with, Brian. And a sack load of guilt. Talking from personal experience I can tell you that it’s the hardest to overcome.”

 

Brian’s not moving for a long time, but finally he nods, and I can see him releasing a long breath. “Was that all?” 

 

“No,” Mom shakes her head sadly. “Unfortunately it’s not. While Joan tried to get herself acquainted with Gus, Mel pulled me into the kitchen for a little private talk.”

 

I frown, “Private talk?”

 

“Oh, honey, I don’t know what happened to that woman. And to think I felt sorry for her at the funeral. She seemed so lost and lonely. But …”

 

“But – what?” Brian’s returned to the kitchen area, his eyes hard and cold. “What did she say?”

 

“The strangest things,” my mother tells him, her eyes flickering to me, then back to him. “She said you were going to take the children away from her and she would never let it happen. And that she knew that Joan and I were only coming to spy on her. I tried to tell her that it was not the case, but she wouldn’t listen.” She takes a sip of her coffee, as if she has to steel herself for something, and then looks squarely at Brian, “And then she started telling me stories of your past. Things, I assume, Lindsay told her in confidence.”

 

“Things?” I ask. “What things?”

 

“Justin, I-“ Mom looks at me almost helplessly, then back at Brian. “It was a little disturbing.” She holds up a hand before he can say anything, “I don’t want to know if it’s true or not, Brian. It happened a long time ago and it doesn’t matter. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but even I can see you have changed a great deal these past years. But what I’m afraid of is what this could do to you – and Justin – if you really go to court to sue for custody of your children.”

 

Brian’s eyes are like stones when he replies, “There’s nothing I’m ashamed of in my past. And Justin knows about it.” He pauses for a moment, then amends, “Well, most of it.” He rubs his neck, and starts to pace the loft, “Shit. I should’ve known the stupid cunt-“ He stops himself and gives my mother an apologizing glance, “Sorry, Jennifer.”

 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she waves it off. “I’ve heard worse.”

 

Appalled by the thought, I stare at her, “Mom!”

 

“Oh, Justin, don’t be such a prude. I wasn’t born being your mother.”

 

“Geez, she’s gotten almost as bad as mine,” Michael chimes in with a grin. It can’t hide the concern in his eyes, but after the way things were just before, it’s a welcome distraction. Michael winks at me, and I realize he’s done it on purpose. Blowing out a breath, I shake my head. If I get to live until I’m hundred I’m never going to understand what makes the guy tick. Only a few days ago he stood in this very loft pulling off the worst drama, and now he’s acting as if nothing’s happened. Even towards me he behaves as if I’m part of the family. 

 

“I’m not just concerned about the court,” my mom’s voice is serious again, “but also because of your mother. I’m afraid she’s not ready to hear stuff like that.”

 

Brian makes a slashing motion with his hand, “Forget about my mother. I’m far beyond saving where she’s concerned.”

 

“Brian-,” Mom’s trying to say, but he interrupts her.

 

“No. Jennifer, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. And if Gus gets to know his grand-mother in the process, and maybe Sara, too, it’s okay. I don’t expect anything from her. Not anymore.”

 

God, I want to hold him. Bad. And I want to shout at the world and all people, who want to hurt him that they have to go through me now. That I’m going to be standing in their way and that that I’m not going to let them do it anymore. 

 

“Stuff like what?” Michael asks finally, getting fed up with the tap-dancing. 

 

“She’s talking about threesomes, foursomes, and stuff like that,” Brian replies. “And no doubt she’s also mentioned drugs and booze.”

 

“Among other things,” Mom confirms with a nod. 

 

Huh? That all? Did I miss something. “You call that disturbing?” I ask. “You should see what we…” I trail off, blushing furiously when I realize what almost blurted out. And to my own mother of all people. Christ! “Ah --- huh ….,” I try to back pedal, “that is…”

 

And suddenly the three people around me erupt into laughter. Even Brian joins in, laughing so hard, tears are streaming down his cheeks. Glaring at them for a moment, I can’t hold onto it any longer and laugh as well, feeling the tension slowly drain from me. If we can still laugh like that, maybe there’s still a chance for this to work to everyone’s content.

 

*****

 

“So, what you’re saying is that you have information about Mr. Kinney that might be of interest for us?” I lean back in my chair, scrutinizing the woman sitting across my desk. I didn’t really recognize her from anywhere, but from what she told me it was obvious that at one point she has been close to Brian. 

 

Brian. 

 

Even the name has my blood boil. He is the reason I ended up here, at a second class weekly magazine, drawing up adds for second-class clients, instead of being a hot shot ad exec in the world of money and fame. Of course I can’t prove it, but I’m sure it was his doing. A few well placed phone calls here and there and I was history. Sure, I could’ve went to New York or L.A. but I neither had the connections nor the money to start new. And now fate is presenting me this opportunity to pay it all back. 

 

“What I’m saying is that a magazine like yours lives off people’s darkest secrets. Believe me when I tell you that he has tons.”

 

No problem in believing that one. A guy like Brian Kinney who fucks everything that moves must have a history to fill books. “Isn’t that a little unethical?” I ask, already wondering how much space my boss is going to provide for a story like this one.

 

“Believe me, ethics is the last of my problems right now,” she replies, then a smirk appears on her face. “And I can’t see that it’s one of your concerns either.”

 

“True,” I agree, having gotten rid of all ethical concerns a long time ago. It was the only way to survive after my career went down the gutter. “And you’re telling me that he and Justin Taylor are a couple now?” As hard as it is to believe with a guy like Brian, it makes the whole affair so much sweeter. Justin Taylor, sweet seventeen year old blond, blue-eyed, and almost as bad as his master. It will give me such satisfaction to see them suffer and fall. 

 

“Oh yes,” she replies, shaking her head as if she’s not ready to believe it herself. I can second the emotion. Brian’s a cold, selfish bastard. But then, his blond boy-toy is equally devious. So maybe they earn each other. “Believe me, they are. Seems that Justin isn’t as smart as I thought he is. And he was such a sweet boy.”

 

I don’t share her sentiments, but I’m not about to tell her that. This opportunity is too good to mess it up. Getting Kinney and Taylor with one strike – it’s my dreams come true.

 

“So,” she asks after a moment, her head slightly tilting to one side, “do we have a deal, Mr-“

 

“Kip,” I interrupt her, standing up and holding out my hand. “Call me Kip,” I say when she shakes it. “After all, friends should be on first name terms, don’t you think?”


	14. Wild Shores

“Well, well, this is a surprise,” Fiona drawls in an almost perfect imitation of a Southern accent. 

 

“Not really,” I reply, taking a seat. “I made an appointment with your assistant this morning.”

 

A little irritated she gives a slight shake of her head, “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about your interesting companion.” She stands and shakes Justin’s offered hand with a smile. “Hi, I’m Fiona McKinley.”

 

“I figured.” Justin treats her to one of his sunshine smiles and sits down beside me. 

 

“Fiona, meet Justin. Justin, that’s … well, she already told you who she is.”

 

Her left brow comes up, “Tough weekend?”

 

“A lot to think about,” I confirm, comforted when Justin’s hand settles on my arm. She follows the movement with her eyes but doesn’t comment. Still, I can see the appreciation flickering through them. 

 

“I can understand that.” Her fingers hovers over the little microphone on her table. “Anyone coffee?”

 

We both shake our heads and she withdraws her hand. “So, did you think about what we were talking about?”

 

Feeling a headache starting just behind my temples I frown, “Yes. And I want to tell you that I’m still not convinced it’s the right thing to do, but it seems Mel is getting … worse.”

 

“Worse?” She’s instantly alarmed. “This is not good.”

 

“Fiona,” Justin interrupts, “I can call you Fiona?”

 

“Please, do.”

 

Another of those blinding smiles. Damn, I should be more careful. The kid’s a real charmer if he wants to. “What Brian’s trying to say is that Melanie’s obviously determined to fight dirty.” Exchanging a short looks with me, he goes on, “She asked Brian’s best friend to marry her. Then she told my mother about … Brian’s past … uhm … sins.”

 

“Sins?” I can’t help it. My right brow moves up involuntarily, and I have to grin.

 

He glares at me, but before he can say anything, it’s Fiona who looks at me with concerned eyes, “I wouldn’t underestimate the woman, Brian. She may be close to losing her marbles, but she’s not stupid.”

 

“So you say.” The grin won’t leave my face, “Losing her marbles?”

 

She shrugs, a little embarrassed, “So what? I used to watch Buffy in my spare time.”

 

Justin grins, “I thought Angel was hot.”

 

“Me too,” she agrees with a grin of her own. “And Giles. God, I was wild about that accent.”

 

At that Justin scrunches his nose, “Too old for my taste.”

 

“Watch it, Sunshine,” I warn, but I know he sees the twinkle in my eyes. Plus I thought Angel was hot, too. Not that I would ever tell him that.

 

“As nice as this is,” Fiona calls us back to the matter at hand. “You said she asked one of your friends to marry her. This could be serious, Brian. If she is married-“

 

“He said no,” I interrupt. “Then he came to see me.”

 

“Good,” she nods, satisfied that the thread seems gone for now. “What about the things she told Justin’s mother. Are they true?”

 

“Yes,” I admit calmly. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s my life. 

 

“Tell me about it,” she encourages, leaning back in her chair. Her right hand is playing with a pen, showing me that she isn’t happy with the new development. 

 

“Fiona, I’m a gay man. Gay men fuck. Okay, so I did more than my fair share. Also some kinky stuff and more than one man at a time. I used to drink regularly, took drugs…” I trail off, thinking that it’s enough for her to know. 

 

For a moment she looks at me, then she sighs, “You said you used to drink, that you took drugs. You don’t do it anymore?”

 

“No,” I shake my head. “Well I have a glass from time to time, and I had … uh … what you would call a relapse lately.” Justin and I share a glance, and his eyes tell me that he’s okay with it now. So I go on, “But it wasn’t … I’m not slipping back into my old habits if that’s what you want to know.”

 

Again she nods, “Did you have any therapy for the drugs? Or the booze?”

 

I straighten in my chair, to make it perfectly clear that I’m serious, “I was never addicted. I could go weeks without drinking, or taking drugs, even then. I never was a junkie.”

 

“It’s true,” Justin instantly backs me up. “He took the drugs for fun. But it’s never been a real problem.”

 

“That’s good to know. Still, having some files about therapy would be helpful if Melanie uses it.” She takes a deep breath, “Oh well, we can do without it.” Suddenly she gives me kind of a shrewd look, “Just for the record. Straight women fuck, too.”

 

Justin giggles and I have a hard time keeping a straight face, “I’ll remember it.” Not that I want to think about straight women. Or them fucking. 

 

“Do that,” she replies almost royally. “And now, let’s find a strategy to deal with Miss Marcus.”

 

*****

 

“I like Fiona,” I say the moment we are back on the street. I actually enjoyed being with a lawyer for the last hour. Figure that!

 

“She’s a shark,” he replies but I can hear the admiration in his voice.

 

“She has to be one for this. Melanie’s going to fight with all she’s got.” It worries me a little I have to admit. Mel knows a lot about Brian, and more probably because Linds might have told her stuff. She has the power to really hurt him. This is going to be tough. 

 

“I’m afraid she will,” he agrees, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit! I hate this. Gus is going to be right in the middle.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Brian.” I stop him by touching his chest. “She started it. She wanted to keep the kids away from you. You’re only fighting for your right.”

 

“That still doesn’t make it better. Not where Gus is concerned. Thank God, Sara’s still too small to understand what’s going on.”

 

“We can only hope they …” I trail off when my eyes suddenly fall on the newspaper in the window beside us. My eyes almost bulge out of my head, “Holy Shit! Brian!”

 

He tenses, “What?”

 

“Oh my God,” I breathe, too shocked to form a coherent thought, let alone a coherent sentence. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“Fuck!” he exclaims as soon as his eyes are following mine. “That fucking bitch.”

 

“What?” For a moment I’m lost, but then it dawns on me, “You think Mel did this?”

 

“You can bet your dick that she did it.” Entering the shop, Brian buys paper and joins me back on the street. There on the front page of some sleazy weekly magazine is a picture of us. Kissing. And in bold letters it says, THE SECRET LIFE OF BRIAN K. – what you always wanted to know about the hidden life of a successful gay man.

 

“I can’t believe it,” I look at Brian who’s already engrossed in the magazine. “How could she do something like that? And who would buy such shit?”

 

Almost against his will he grins, “You call my life shit, Sunshine?”

 

Angry at his attitude, I shake my head, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I mean, how could she go and find someone who would print private details of your life? Didn’t she think what this will do to Gus?”

 

“Shit!” Brian’s eyes flash at me, and with an almost vicious movement he slaps the paper in my hand. “I didn’t think about that. God, the stupid, fucking cunt. She’s totally lost it now.”

 

Flipping through the pages, I finally find the article, and gasp at the pictures. In one Brian’s almost naked. And quite obviously very drunk. And then next shows me, sucking at a rubber dick. I remember when they was done. Linds wanted to show her parents that they were normal like other couples. When her parents didn’t show, Brian spiked the punch and it kind of went crazy from there. Shit! “How could she give pictures like that to the press.”

 

“Because she’s fucking insane,” Brian shouts, not caring that people walking by turn and look at him. 

 

Another thought hits me, “Is this going to hurt you professionally?”

 

He waves it off, “They all know I’m gay. And I own half of the agency.” Again he rakes his fingers through his hair, “My mother won’t leave her house for a week, too ashamed to show her face in public. I can hardly wait to hear her on the answering machine.” He shakes his head, “What about your Dad?”

 

Shit. My Dad. Not that I really care for what he’s thinking of me. Ever since I was with Ethan, or more exactly, ever since Ethan became this famous musician, we’ve established some kind of very strained contact, but he’s gonna flip when he sees that picture. I almost have to laugh. “Forget about him,” I tell Brian, “it’s not as if his opinion counts anyway.”

 

“What about Molly?”

 

I grin, “She’s a teenager. You met her. Do you really think she will mind?”

 

Even though I know he does feel far from it, he returns it. “Not really. She’s a tough one.”

 

“What did you expect?” 

 

“The good Taylor-genes, huh? Must be from your mother’s side.”

 

“Yeah,” I agree. They can’t be from Dad. But Mom’s parents are cool, too. 

 

Suddenly Brian’s cell rings and he answers it, “Yeah? … We’re only a few … okay. Yes, we’ll be back in five minutes.” Grimacing, he looks at me, “That was Fiona. She obviously heard about the article, and wants to see us ASAP.”

 

I roll my eyes. I like the woman, but I so don’t want to chew through this with her. “Oh fun.”

 

“Maybe we can sneak into one of the bathrooms for a moment,” Brian says.

 

I punch his arm, “You’re incorrigible.”

 

He shrugs, “Relaxation technique, Sunshine.”

 

“Sure,” I snort.

 

He stops, “You don’t need to come up, Justin. If there’s something else you’d rather-“

 

“Don’t be stupid,” I interrupt. “Yes, there’s things I’d prefer to do, but I want to be with you in this.”

 

He looks at me for a long moment, then, in the middle of the street, not caring that the people walking by are staring at us, he kisses me. Not just a peck, but a full-blown kiss with tongue and all. My eyes are shining and my breath is a little ragged when he pulls back. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice slightly hoarse. He holds out his hand and I take it. Linked like that we walk back to Fiona’s office.

 

Together.

 

I really like the sound of that.

 

*****

 

“And then she had the guts to ask me to marry her,” Michel tells us, gesturing wildly with his fork, while he’s still chewing on the egg he’s shoveled into his mouth only seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s my Southern soul or anything, but I’ll never get over the way he’s doing it. I mean, I’ve seen Debbie eat, and Vic, who has been a top class chef, and I’ll never understand where he gets it from. 

 

And then his words sink in and I choke on the remains of my bagel, “She – what?”

 

Michael nods vigorously, “She asked me to marry her. She’s completely lost it now, If you ask me.”

 

“Sounds that way,” I mutter, wondering if Michael is right, if Melanie’s really lost it this time. 

 

“To be fair,” Teddy says, looking every one of his almost forty years. I even discovered some gray hairs last time I took a closer look. When I suggested dyeing, he looked at me as if I were insane. He insisted that dyeing would make it fall out even faster. Some people are just beyond help. “I think Mel is having a hard time. With Lindsay dead all the responsibility is hers now. It’s not what she bargained for. And now her friends are turning against her.” He glares at Michael, something I never thought I’d see in my life. Sometimes I wonder if he ever got over his crush. Yes, I know he insists he has each time someone asks him, but I have my doubts. 

 

“Teddy,” I look at him, my very best friend in this world, and sigh. “But asking Michael to marry her? Don’t you think that’s a bit … too much?”

 

“If it serves the purpose.”

 

I glance at Michael who openmouthed stares at my ex-lover. And believe me when I say I can relate. “What did you just say?” 

 

Teddy shrugs, “I just don’t like it that you all automatically take Brian’s side. He’s an asshole or have you all conveniently forgotten about it?”

 

“He’s changed a lot,” Michael says, always ready to defend his friend, no matter what. 

 

Even though I sometimes think he carries it a little too far, I have to agree with him in this. “He’s right, Teddy, Brian has changed. Just look how he and Justin are together now?”

 

My ex only snorts, “Only after he ran away. Very mature.”

 

I bite my lip to hold back an angry retort. Not because I want to defend Brian or anything, but because I think Teddy recently developed a streak of righteousness I can hardly stand. As if he’s got answers for everything, and the truth is always his. He probably had it in him all along, I just didn’t notice it. I want to remind him that he’s still living alone, that he’s still going to Babylon from time to time only to get rejected an laughed at, but I don’t. I would never hurt him that way. Sometimes, however, I think I should. Being his friend, I should be the one to tell him the truth. Unfortunately I’m a coward. I just don’t want to lose him.

 

“This is so not fair,” Michael argues. “Brian’s had it worse than any of us. You don’t know how his life was when he was just a teenager.” 

 

“He hasn’t been a teenager for a long time. He should grow up and get over with it.” 

 

Like you didn’t, I want to say, but again hold my tongue. Okay, so Ted has a successful business, earns tons of money, and is so ashamed, it’s ridiculous. His mother doesn’t know what he’s doing, and apart from us, nobody else does. I wonder what I could say when the door opens, and Debbie storms into the diner, holding a magazine in her hand and wearing an expression of pure outrage. 

 

“Have you seen this?” she asks, throwing the magazine in the middle of our table. My glass of orange juice almost topples over and I can save it the very last moment. 

 

I lean slightly forward and look at Michael, “What happened to her?”

 

He shrugs, obviously equally in the dark. “Mom, what’s … Holy Shit!” His fork clatters down on the plate, and he’s staring at the magazine. 

 

“Oh my …,” I’m sure my eyes must look like saucers by now.

 

“Hey, let me see,” Teddy demands, picking up the magazine. “I can’t believe it. Brian Kinney finally got what he deserved.”

 

“Theodore Schmidt,” Debbie cries, snatching the thing from his hands. “I’ll pretend I haven’t heard that. I can’t believe you would say such a despicable thing. Have you any idea what this is going to do to Gus?”

 

“Oh my God,” Michael says, his eyes wide with horror. He has the magazine now and is looking at some inside pages. “Have you read this shit? They’re practically calling Brian a whore. And these pictures. We were all high and they were made in private at Linds-“ he breaks off, his gaze coming up with an almost audible snap. “Mel made them.” 

 

I take the magazine from him, and after a moment nod, “She did. I remember. And that after Brian did what he could to make Linds better. God, the woman has no shame.” I can’t believe Mel would do such a thing, but I have the proof in front of me. “Look at them, Teddy,” I shove the magazine under my friend’s nose. “You still think Mel’s someone we should feel sorry for?” He looks at the pictures, then at me, and I want to scream. “What?” I ask. “You still think Brian earned this? Such a public humiliation? Teddy, do you know what you’re saying here? Mel used private snapshots and information to get back at Brian. Whatever he’s done or not, this is not the way to do things.”

 

“Emmett, honey, I really love you,” Debbie says, fondness shining in her eyes. God, I love that woman. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without her all these years. She always had an open ear for problems, always was there when I thought I couldn’t take it. Suddenly I have a flash of Mel sitting by my side, supporting me after George died, fighting for me. I can hardly believe it’s the same woman who did something so despicable. 

 

“Are you really sure it’s Mel?”

 

Only Teddy could ask such a question. “Who else would’ve reason to do something like that?” Michael asks. 

 

“You don’t really expect me to answer that,” Teddy replies. “Think about all the guys he fucked over. What about … Justin’s Dad.”

 

“Justin’s dad wouldn’t even know pictures like those existed. Plus the one of Justin. He and his father might not get along, but Craig would never hurt his son that way.” 

 

Unfortunately I have to agree with Deb. Mel’s the most likely suspect, and frankly, the only one that came to my mind. “I think we have to accept the fact that Mel did it. But why?”

 

“Because she’s fighting for her kids,” Deb says, worry written all over her face. She has a lot more wrinkles these days, but I think she looks even more adoring. “Only she forgets that she’s hurting them in the process. Gus goes to school. Can you even imagine what’s going to happen when the parents of his classmates see this?” She points at the magazine, once again lying abandoned on the table. 

 

“Poor baby,” I agree, remembering all the times I was bullied, just because I was different. And Gus is so young. 

 

Suddenly I feel a nudge at my side. “I need to leave,” Ted says. “I have an appointment in half an hour.” 

 

A little puzzled, didn’t he tell me he took the morning off just a few minutes ago, I stand to let him out of the booth. “What appointment.”

 

“Nothing,” he replies quickly, a little too quickly, “something I almost forgot. Business.”

 

“Ah,” I nod, watching him leave. Then I look at Deb, “I wonder what that was all about? Just before he told me he was taking the morning off.”

 

She shrugs, “Maybe he just didn’t want to listen to us anymore. He’s gotten a little odd lately, our Teddy.”

 

“You can say that again,” Michael agrees, shoving the rest of his food into his wide open mouth. 

 

I look away. “Maybe,” I mumble, not sure why I have such a bad feeling about this.


	15. Wild Shores

When I step off the elevator at work, I don’t know what to expect. Not that I care, but I’m not really looking forward to gossip and whisper either. If it were up to me I would’ve skipped work today, but unfortunately that big account has to be dealt with, and so I left Justin to his meeting with Daphne who’s come to town for the holidays to see her parents. She’s living in New York now, trying to become a doctor. The thought of sassy Daphne cutting people’s bellies open makes me chuckle. 

 

Cynthia’s head comes up when I approach her desk. First there’s worry in her eyes, but because she knows me, she forces a grin on her face. “Wow,” she breathes, fluttering her lashes. “You know,” she gets up and follows me into my office, “I think those pictures are hot.”

 

“Thanks,” I reply dryly. “You’re probably the only one thinking that way.”

 

“Oh,” her grin is suddenly genuine, “I don’t know about that. However,” she goes on and I raise a brow at her, “I’m a little … ah … how do I put it … disappointed.”

 

Intrigued despite the shit that’s going on in my life, I lean back as she perches on the corner of my desk. “Ah. Disappointed – how?”

 

“You see,” she sighs, “I had all these fantasies about you. x-rated, I may add. And now that I’ve seen you, I feel kind of robbed.” 

 

I cough to smother a laugh, “I see. Well, it’s good then that I wasn’t completely naked in the pictures. You haven’t seen all of me. You can still fantasize about my most … shall we say, prominent part.”

 

She chuckles and is about to tell me something when a knock at the door has us both turning. “Brian,” Gardner steps into the office, his face serious. “Do you have a minute for me?”

 

I sigh inwardly. No doubt this will take a lot longer. “Sure,” I nod at Cynthia who’s already retreating. “Can you get me some coffee?” 

 

“Sure,” she says before closing the door. 

 

“How is the account going?” Vance sits down on the chair opposite to mine. 

 

“Good,” I tell him, rubbing my nape. “But you didn’t come to discuss the account.”

 

He sighs, “No. What happened?”

 

That’s Gardner. Never beating around the bush, always straight and open. It’s something I appreciate, but right now I wish he’d stayed away. Even after talking to Fiona I’m still not sure how to deal with the whole damn thing. “I got fucked.” When he just looks at me, I give tell him as much as he needs to know to understand. 

 

When I end, he nods, “I see. You realize, however, that this will affect the agency.”

 

Cynthia enters with the coffee, and with a small smile leaves again. Glad for the interruption, I take a slow sip, before facing Gardner again, deciding that attack is the best defense right now. “Because I’m gay?” I ask.

 

He snorts almost angrily at that, “That’s bullshit. Everyone knows you’re gay, and I don’t have a problem with it. You told me once that where you stuck your dick was your problem as long as you were not sticking it into me. I accepted that, and I still do. Be gay, bi or straight, I don’t care, as long as you do your part. But things like the article and the pictures…” He shakes his head, “I don’t want the private life of people associated with this agency in public.”

 

I almost laugh at the absurdity of his words, “And you think I’m crazy about it? Jesus, Gardner, I would’ve stopped it if I could. But unfortunately the bitch went to some sleazy reporter because she’s obviously decided to fight dirty.”

 

“She wouldn’t be able to fight dirty if the pictures didn’t exist.”

 

Feeling my heart beat accelerate and the blood starting to boil inside of me, I take another sip of the coffee to calm myself. Not looking at him, because I’m not sure I might hit him, I blow out a long breath. “I’m not going to justify my sex life in front of you. You have no right to act the way you do.” Slowly I let my head rise, and my eyes focus on his, “I’m responsible for far more than 50% of the accounts in this agency. So don’t try to pull this bullshit on me.”

 

“But for how long?” He leans forward, his eyes flashing, “How long will you hold the accounts if people read stuff like that? How long will they come at all?” He suddenly stands and starts to pace, “They even had our name in it.” He stops, his gaze back on me, “You really think clients won’t mind? Wake up, Brian. Wake up fast.”

 

“Sure, some of them will mind,” I agree, hating the sick feeling in my gut. Yes, they will mind. Not because someone printed some pictures, not even because my sex life is now public knowledge, but because the pictures show me with a beautiful boy instead of some half-naked woman. “I will deal with it.”

 

“No, you won’t,” he replies. “You will stay the fuck away from your phone, and leave the cleaning up to me. I will explain to them that this is nothing but a revenge act by some demented woman.”

 

I bite back an angry retort, hating to be treated like a little boy. I own half of the agency, and I’m not going to accept a treatment like this. “It’s none of your fucking business. And I will deal with it. Stay out of it, Gardner. And this is a friendly warning.”

 

For a moment he closes his eyes, as if to pray for patience, then looks at me again, “Brian, I like you. I’ve come to appreciate your style and the way you work. I couldn’t wish for a better partner, and I’m going to stick with you through this, but –“

 

I smirk, “You doubled your profits because of me.”

 

“I’m aware of that, but if something like this ever happens again, I’ll be forced to disband this partnership.”

 

Glad that I manage not to let the blow show on my face, I nod, “That’s fair.”

 

He says nothing, just looks at me for another second, then turns and leaves my office without closing the door behind him.

 

A moment later Cynthia appears again. “Whew,” she stares at me, “he was pissed.”

 

“Pissed doesn’t even start to describe it.” I shake my head, feeling a little weak in the knees for a moment. “If anyone from the press calls-“

 

She holds up a hand, “I won’t put them through, no worries. How is Justin?”

 

I have to smile at that, my heart warming, “He’s pissed. If Mel was around he might have beat her up.”

 

Her eyes widen, “Melanie? Melanie did this?”

 

“Yeah,” I confirm, wondering for the umpteenth time why on earth Linds ever fell for that bitch. Our life would have been so much easier without her. 

 

“Wow, she must hate you a lot.”

 

That, too. “She’s acting like the crazy bitch from hell,” I tell her, absentmindedly sorting through papers Cynthia must have put on my desk. “As if I ever intended to take the kids away from her.”

 

“Brian … I need to talk to you, Brian.”

 

Oh hell! Surging up from the chair, I ignore Cynthia’s startled look as I walk past her to door finding the owner of the familiar voice staring at me. Wishing I could just run, I still manage to force a smile on my face, even though my insides feel as if they’re burning, “Mom. What are you doing here?”

 

*****

 

“I need a cup of coffee, bad,” I tell Debbie as soon as I’m settled on one of the stools at the counter. 

 

“Coffee coming right up, honey,” she replies with a grin and pops her gum. I swear she’s the only woman in her mid-fifties still constantly chewing. “Jennifer, you look like shit,” she exclaims when she places the cup in front of me. 

 

“I feel like it, too. I just had the clients from hell. A couple from New York, both around thirty, both successful, no kids. They’re looking for a house, and nothing is right.” I sip at my cup, savoring the taste, “I must have shown them twenty houses, and nothing’s good enough. I’m this close,” I show an inch between thumb and forefinger, “to strangling them.”

 

Debbie gives me a good natured smile, “Honey, they’re not worth spending the rest of your life in jail. Besides,” she sighs, the smile gone as if it hasn’t been there at all, “we have more pressing problems to deal with.”

 

“We have?” I ask, not sure what she’s talking about. Dread settles in my gut when she looks at me with an unreadable expression, then produces a magazine from behind the counter. 

 

“I’m assuming from your reaction you didn’t see this yet?” She holds the think out to me and I take it. 

 

It’s one of those magazines I wouldn’t usually spend a second glance on, but when I see the picture on the cover, I gasp. “Oh my God!”

 

“You can say that again,” Debbie comments dryly, signaling to the other waitress that she’s taking five minutes off. 

 

My heart drumming in my chest, I flip through the pages, until I find the article and my mouth goes dry with shock. There’s Brian, almost naked, and quite obviously wasted. And …”Justin,” I mutter, “there’s a picture of Justin.”

 

“I know, honey,” Debbie pats my arm. “I know.”

 

And not just any picture. He’s on his knees and his lips are closed around … Taking a deep breath, I close the magazine, and put it down on the counter. Then I take another deep breath, and another. Only then I risk a glance at my friend, who’s watching me with concerned eyes. Slowly the shock fades and is replaced by anger, which I welcome wholeheartedly. My voice calm, even though I have a feeling it’s vibrating all through my body, I ask, “Who did this?”

 

“We think it’s Mel.”

 

Mel. It figures. Mel who I pitied. Mel who I took in my arms, and whose back I stroked at the reception. Mel who cried on my shoulder and looked at me with those big, pain filled eyes. Mel, who told me the most disgusting stories about Brian, and seemed to glow with glee that she could. “Are you sure?” I’m not even sure it’s my voice anymore, it sounds so strange. I can understand she’s angry with Brian, even though I think her anger is completely misplaced. But Justin … what did Justin do to her?

 

“We’re quite certain,” Debbie replies, still watching me with those eyes full of concern and compassion. 

 

And then another thought comes to my mind, and I press my fingers over my lips to stop myself from screaming. “What about Gus?” I whisper in horror, my head filling with images of a little boy being bullied. A little boy who doesn’t understand any of it. My disgust with the woman grows into immeasurable amounts. Doesn’t she have any shame? Where is her soul? Did she think for a moment what this would do to her own child? Or doesn’t she? For the first time I feel myself doubting Mel’s love for her children. Not because she didn’t give birth to them, but because they’re Brian’s.

 

“Well,” I say after taking another deep breath. It doesn’t help, my heart still hammers in my chest. “What can we do? And more importantly, is there anything that can be done after this?” I point at the magazine in front of me. 

 

Debbie sighs, “I’m not sure what we can do aside from assuring Brian and Justin that we’re in this with them – all the way.”

 

“It’s something,” I agree, but feel that there has to be more. “Maybe …,” I bite my lip, “maybe one of us could talk to her. I’m not sure she’s still open for reason, but we have to try. If she’s done something like this, who knows what else could happen.”

 

Deb nods gravely, “I hear you, honey. Do you want to go and-“ 

 

“Oh no,” I shake my head emphatically. “I had the meeting from hell with her last Friday. I won’t go into details, but it’s suffice to say that because I’m Justin’s mother, I’m the enemy. But …,” again I bite my lip, an odd habit I took on lately when I’m nervous, “what about you?”

 

She laughs, then narrows her eyes, “You’re serious? Honey, I’m not exactly known as being overly diplomatic. I might make it worse instead of better.”

 

I glance at the magazine, “You really think it can get any worse?”

 

“Oh, it could get a lot worse.” She rubs her nose, “Oh well, why not. I could at least try, right?”

 

“You would?” I look at her, feeling moved, and reminded why I like this woman so much. “Oh Deb.”

 

She waves it off, as always uncomfortable with praise, “Don’t expect too much. I might drive her raving mad.”

 

I chuckle, and watch her move back to the window to pick up food for the customers who are now streaming into the diner. Then I pick up the magazine, open the article again and start reading. At the first line my stomach starts to churn, and when I’m done even the coffee tastes like acid in my mouth.

 

*****

 

“You look great,” Justin says, and I grin. Even though he’s obviously tired and stressed, he looks phenomenal. Three guesses what brought that on.

 

“I’m jealous,” I tell him. “You have that thoroughly fucked look all around you.”

 

He blushes slightly. I think it’s adorable that he can still do that, even after all he’s been through. When he finally told me what really happened with the wonderful Ethan, I wished the asshole was still alive so I could kill him. 

 

The blush fades after a moment and a shit-eating grin appears on his face, “That’s because I am.”

 

We both laugh. “I’m so glad you and Brian are back together. See,” I tell him, “I knew it from the start.”

 

“Yeah, you did,” he agrees, a shadow flickering through his eyes, and I instantly know what it’s about.

 

Trying to make fun of it, I grin, “I think that picture of you is so hot.”

 

“Thanks,” he snorts, “I feel so much better now.” He shakes his head, “That picture isn’t the problem. It’s Brian’s that could cause one.”

 

“Because of the kids?” He told me about the problems with Melanie and that Brian decided to sue for custody when we talked Saturday night. 

 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I saw first hand what assholes the judges are.”

 

“Not all of them,” I try to argue, not really believing it. Too often I saw judges close their eyes at the truth, especially where homosexuals are concerned. And don’t get me started on the police …

 

“Brian’s so worried,” he tells me, his fingers playing with the napkin. The waitress comes with our drinks and salads, and he lets go of it. Staring at the filled plate in front of him, he sighs, “He barely slept the whole weekend, trying to decide what to do. He tries to be strong, but I’m not sure he’s able to deal with this.”

 

I reach over the table and take his hand, then smile when he looks up. “He’s got you. And you’ve got me.”

 

He tries to return my smile but fails. With the fingers of his free hand he rakes through his hair. “This is such shit,” he complains, “what if Brian’s gonna lose his kids because of it? He’s not going to get over something like that. He might not always show it, but he loves the kids, they mean everything to him.”

 

“Not everything,” I try to remind him, though silently accepting that he’s probably right. 

 

“He loves me, I don’t doubt that, Daph. But … Gus and Sara … they’re special. They’re not just his kids, they’re also his chance to make things right, to do better than his fucked up parents.”

 

“Hey, honey.” 

 

I look up, surprised to see my boyfriend standing there, gazing down on us. He grins at me, and after a moment pulls a third chair to the table and sits down. I watch him with a puzzled frown, not sure what this is all about. We agreed that he would pick me up at two, but it’s barely half past one. Not that I want to hide him or something, but he’s a little difficult sometimes, and frankly, I don’t know him all that well yet. We met a few months ago at the University, and have been loosely dating since then. When I decided to see my parents, he offered to drive me down as he wanted to visit a buddy who was living in Pittsburgh. 

 

“What are you doing here that early?” 

 

“I wanted to see you. Don’t be mad,” he pleads, giving me his most adoring grin. Don’t get me wrong. I like the guy. And he’s great in bed. But he’s good looking, too, and unfortunately he knows it. 

 

“I’m not mad,” I tell him, feeling mad as hell. “Justin, this is Mark, my boyfriend. Mark, this is Justin, my best friend.”

 

“Hey,” Mark nods at Justin, but before Justin is able to reply, a gleam enters Mark’s eyes. “Hey, aren’t you the guy I just read an article about?”

 

Justin pales, and gulps, “What article?” He’s clearly uncomfortable, and looks as if he wants to be anywhere but here.

 

“Mark,” I let a definite warning infuse my voice, and grab his arm.

 

But instead of listening to me, Mark leers at Justin, “You are the guy. The one with the rubber dildo in his mouth. You know, I was always wondering if all fags were hot for the kinky stuff.”

 

Justin sinks down in his chair, doing his best to disappear while he’s till there, and I feel as if I want to explode. “Mark,” I hiss, “shut up!”

 

“Why?” he wants to know, gazing at me with innocent blues. “Maybe he can give me some pointers. Not that I want to fuck guys, but some chicks like the kinky stuff, too.”

 

“Okay,” I roughly grab his arm and force him to look at me, “you are leaving. Right now.”

 

“Aw, honey. Don’t get like this-“

 

“I’m not getting like anything,” I grit out between clenched teeth, “and I’m not your honey.”

 

He winks, still acting as if the whole situation is outrageously funny, “Come one, you were my honey when you screamed last night-“

 

“And that’s the last you heard of me,” I tell him, making it perfectly clear that I mean business now. “You are going to leave. Now!”

 

“You’re serious?” he looks so honestly puzzled, I want to scream. How could I ever fall for this jerk? I have to blame it on hormones, because aside from his lack of brain he’s really great in bed. “You’re sending me away for some fag?”

 

That does it. “The ‘fag’ is my best friend. And you’re nothing but history. Maybe not even that. If possible I will wipe you from my memory. Leave. Or I might kill you.”

 

Again he stares at me, completely incredulous, but he obviously understands that this isn’t some funny game. Laughing, he gets up and shakes his head, “God, you’re sick. You think any guy will wanna come near you with friends like that?” When I snort, he shakes his head again, “He’s not gonna fuck you.”

 

Finally losing it, I get right into his face, “Just for the record, he already did. In fact, he was my first. And just to make it clear, he was a hundred times the man you are. And now, get lost.”

 

Surprise flickers through Mark’s eyes, then disgust, and without another word he turns and leaves the coffee shop. My heart hammering in my chest, I have to take several deep breaths to calm down. When I finally reclaim my seat, I find Justin watching me with something like awe in his expression. “What?” I snap, instantly taking another deep breath. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he grins slightly. “Wow. Remind me to ask you for advice if I ever want to dump someone.”

 

“Planning to get rid of Brian already?” 

 

“Not even in your dreams. And I never thought you could be like this.”

 

Not getting it, I frown. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Your first time,” he explains. “It was for shit.”

 

No, it was not. At least not for me. But he’ll probably never understand it. Unlike him, I enjoyed every moment of it. “It was beautiful,” I say, hating it when I feel my eyes fill. 

 

He lets out an incredulous snort, “You’re shitting me, right?”

 

“No, I’m not shitting you.” I sigh, “I’m sorry … you know, for Mark.” It’s safer to change the subject now. Going down memory lane with Justin can lead into dangerous territory. 

 

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault he’s such an asshole. I worry though.” He chews on a leaf of his salad before he continues. We’ve both lost our appetites. “I mean, he’s a straight guy. What if all of them think like that?”

 

“They don’t. I’m straight, too.”

 

“You don’t count. You’re a freak.”

 

I laugh in mock outrage. “Am not!”

 

He grins, “Are too. But I love you anyway.”

 

“I love you, too.” He will never know how much.

 

He puts his fork down and reaches for my hand, “I’m glad you’re here. How long will you stay?”

 

“I have four weeks.”

 

“Good. I might need a friend.”

 

I smile, feeling warm and happy. Even though it’s all I ever going to get, it’s enough. “I’m here.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I smile again, and finally dig into my salad. It doesn’t really taste great, but I’m suddenly ravenous.

 

*****

 

“You are drunk.”

 

Brian looks at me with a mixture of anxiety and disgust, and I try to remember when was the last time he gazed at me like a son. It’s been a long time. A very long time. “I had a few drinks to relax.”

 

“Yeah,” he snorts, “sure.”

 

The woman beside him has long hair and is watching me warily. She’s pretty. “Are you his secretary?”

 

“Yes,” she confirms, “I’m Cynthia.” She holds out her hand, “Hi, Mrs. Kinney. It’s nice to meet you.” She gives Brian a nervous glance, and after a nod, she leaves. 

 

“Why are you here, mom?”

 

Why am I? I wonder. I feel fuzzy and reach out to steady myself, and it’s Brian who comes to my aid. Brian, my son. Brian, the baby I carried in my womb even though my husband did his best to convince me to have an abortion. He didn’t want another child, he told me. Too much responsibility. He wasn’t made to be a family man. When I asked him why he married me, he hit me for the first time. 

 

Blinking hard, I try to focus on his face that’s wavering in front of me. “I can’t leave the house. All the neighbors are whispering. I can’t go to church.” I feel him stiffen beside me, but he says nothing. No defense, no apology for destroying my life. “How could you?” I ask. “How could you do this to me?” 

 

Again he doesn’t comment, instead I feel his firm arm around my back as he steers me towards the elevator. “I’ll get you home, mom. You need to lie down.”

 

Home? Where I have to move behind closed curtains. It’s no home, it’s a prison, thanks to him. “Your sister wouldn’t have done something like that.”

 

“No, of course not,” he replies. 

 

Nothing else. “I met your son,” I tell him as he shoves me into his car. 

 

“I know. Jennifer told me.”

 

Jennifer. A lovely woman. “Her son is your lover.”

 

“He is.”

 

“How can you do such things with a boy? He was only seventeen when you sodomized him.” I can’t even think about it. An innocent boy. “What if it was Gus?”

 

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he puts the car into gear. “You probably think I’m capable of anything. Even molesting my own son. Not that it surprises me.”

 

“You’re disgusting.”

 

“I know.” There’s no denying. Only acceptance, and I nod. 

 

“I’m glad you realize it. You should pray, Brian. Ask God’s forgiveness for what you did. Not only are you enjoying perversion, but you also left your son with a mother who quite obviously hates him.”

 

“Mel doesn’t hate Gus,“ he insists. 

 

He’s so wrong. So very wrong. “She told him he was responsible for his mother’s death.” The car does some funny moves, but soon it’s back to normal. I glance to my side. Brian stares out on the road, his expression bleak. “Children should be conceived with love. Not through abomination.”

 

Again, nothing from my son. Well, he’s probably trying to come to terms with his sins. “You should talk to Reverend Tom. He will show you the right way.”

 

He snorts, “Reverend Tom. Yeah, the guy who’s like your son.”

 

“He is the very best. Not like you. He has found his way, he’s found God.” And he’s got the most lovely voice. Like an angel.

 

The car comes to a stop and startled I realize we’re at my house. The door next to it opens, and Fran Maloney steps outside. She sees me, and turns her head away. “How am I going to live here?” I ask.

 

“Frankly, that’s not my problem, mom.” 

 

I reach for the door and open it, unsteadily climbing out of the car, “Yes, it is. You Kinney men are all alike. You never care who you’re hurting.”

 

His jaw clenches, and he doesn’t look at me. I close the door and turn towards the house. Behind me I hear him using his phone, and then his voice. “Cyn, it’s me. I’m not coming back in today. Could you do me a favor. Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” He doesn’t sound alright, how it should be, after what he did. “Find out who wrote the article. Then drive them nuts. Who else if not you. Yeah,” he laughs, but it’s strained. “I love you, too.” Then he drives away. I don’t look after him. 

 

Why should I, he’s no son of mine.

 

*****

 

Sleepily I blink my eyes when the doorbell rings. Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s not even two. Shit! I fell asleep again. I hear my daughter’s steady breathing through the baby monitor. Gus is still at school and I took the day off. I only left the house to buy one of those magazines, but strangely didn’t feel as elated as I expected I would. Kip called two hours ago but I couldn’t listen to the triumph in his voice and fortunately could get rid of him in mere minutes. He said he’d publish another article in a few days, but I didn’t care.

 

Again the bell rings, and I shout, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Hold your horses.” I stumble from the sofa and towards the door, gaping when I find Ted standing there. “Teddy?”

 

His face is a little flushed and the hair on his balding head stands on end, “Mel.” He nervously rubs his palms on his slacks. “Can I come in?”

 

I rub my eyes, not sure what’s going on. I don’t want him here. I want to be alone. I saw Linds in my dreams and it was so peaceful. “Yeah, sure. What’s the matter?” I ask as soon as I close the door behind him. 

 

Clearing his throat, he smiles before quite obviously gathering his courage. “I heard you were looking for a husband.” I do a double take. What the hell… “I’ve got a proposition for you.”


	16. Wild Shores

It’s time for dinner when I return to the loft, still feeling a little embarrassed at the thought of everyone seeing me with a rubber dildo in my mouth. Sighing, I open the door and am hit by the strong smell of …” Brian?”

 

“Present, Sonnyboy.”

 

Uh-oh. My stomach flutters. Something must have happened. Something bad. “I thought you weren’t going to smoke that shit anymore.”

 

He shrugs, taking a deep drag. “It relaxes me. I need it tonight.”

 

Steeling myself against a new blow, I remove my coat and sit down beside him. He’s sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the sofa. When he holds out his joint to me, I shake my head, and he chuckles, “You are a wise one. One of us should stay clearheaded tonight.”

 

Dreading the answer, I ask nevertheless, “What happened?”

 

Again he chuckles, “You should ask what didn’t happen. First Gardener chewed out my ass, giving me a speech about responsibility and how the whole mess is my fault because I’m such a bad boy. And just when I start to relax Mommy dearest shows up.”

 

Stunned speechless for a moment, I stare at his profile while he takes another deep drag. “Your … mom?”

 

He nods and blows the smoke out with a hiss. “Told you she’d be on the answering machine, complaining about her horrible son. Only, I was wrong, she delivered her love in person.” 

 

Oh fuck. “What did she say?”

 

Again the chuckle. “What she said? That I’m a disgrace, and how I could do such a thing. That she can’t leave her house anymore, that all Kinney men are unfeeling assholes. Oh …” he looks at me, “and get this … I molested you. Did you know?”

 

Wanting to hurt Joan Kinney in the worst way, I finally take the joint from him and take a drag, suddenly needing it bad. He grins, “Need it after all, huh?”

 

Coughing slightly, I hand him the joint back. “Your mother’s such a bitch.”

 

“Halleluja,” he exclaims. “And she shall sit to his left and reign over us.”

 

“Huh?”

 

He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, “Nothing. Just the way she sees herself. Like Mary. Though I wonder, her son associated with whores. I’m not sure she’d approved of him.” Watching me from the corner of his eye, he asks, “How was your date with Daphne.”

 

I grimace thinking of Mark, the asshole boyfriend. 

 

He had obviously seen it, “That bad, huh? What, did they recognize you?”

 

“Her boyfriend showed up.” 

 

Brian snickers, “Ohhhh, a straight male, huh? Don’t you just love them?” 

 

Taking the joint from him again, I snort, “He’s such an asshole. Why would she fuck a guy like him?”

 

He shrugs, “Because he’s hot?”

 

I sigh. He’s right, after all I was turned on jerking off Chris Hobbs. “Maybe,” I admit grudgingly.

 

His head tilts and he leans it against my shoulder, “When I fucked you everyone thought I was an asshole.” When I don’t comment, he nuzzles my neck, “So, what did Adonis say?”

 

“He was no Adonis,” I reply, feeling goose bumps all over my back. God, his lips are so soft and so amazingly talented, what he can do just by brushing them over … “Gaaaawd.” He chuckles and I moan. “He had hair everywhere on his chest,” I tell him, trying to slow down my speeding heart. “It looked like the fucking rainforest.”

 

Brian’s hand wanders to my groin and he cups it through my pants. I’m hard. I was the moment he started nuzzling me. “Some women like it, I was told. Some men, too. I once fucked a guy-“

 

“I really don’t want to hear about guys you fucked,” I interrupt him indignantly. “Especially while you’re attempting to fuck me.”

 

I feel his chuckle against my nape, “Touchy, are we.”

 

“How would you feel if everyone can stare at you with a rubber dildo in your mouth?” 

 

He sighs and raises his head to look me in the eyes. His are slightly dazed, due to passion and due to the shit he’s been smoking, I’m sure. “They can see me in my underwear.”

 

“Yeah, but you like sex in public places,” I argue, feeling like crying all of a sudden. Fuck, I shouldn’t have smoked that shit. 

 

His right brow comes up, “I thought you did, too?”

 

“Yeah, sometimes. But that’s … humiliating.”

 

His eyes turn very serious, and he cups my cheek in his palm, “Only when you let them humiliate you, Justin. It’s up to you how people will react. Not all people. Most of them won’t even care. But your friends, those who count.” He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine, then pulls back again, “How is my sweet little Daphne?”

 

“She dumped him.”

 

For a moment he stares at me, then he erupts with laughter, “That’s a girl after my heart.”

 

I have to grin now, “You wouldn’t believe it. She just dumped him there in the coffee shop. Sent him away. Man, she was so furious you wouldn’t believe it.”

 

“So she’s still your friend.”

 

I nod, my heart warming at the thought of Daphne, “The very best.” 

 

He nods, too, content with the answer, then once again starts to nuzzle my neck. I sigh, letting pleasure wash over me. Fuck people, I think when he opens the zipper and reaches inside. Who cares what people think. This is all that matters.

 

*****

 

Mel opens the door after the third ring, and even though her eyes are directed at me, they seem unfocussed somehow. Still, she smiles, “Hey Deb.” Then she turns away and walks back into the living room letting the door open for me to follow. 

 

Frowning I follow her, and my frown deepens when she instantly sinks on the sofa, closing her eyes, while Gus is playing on the floor near by with a red fire engine. “Debbie!” he cries happily and comes to greet me, hugging me as I bent down. 

 

“How is my sweet Gus?”

 

He pulls back and grins, “Fine. Look what my grandma gave me.” He pulls me over to his toys and after ah-ing and oh-ing them, I manage to tear myself away from his excitement and turn back to the woman I came to see. 

 

She’s still on the sofa, eyes still closed, in fact she looks the way she did ten minutes ago, as if she hasn’t even moved. “Mel, honey,” I address her cautiously, “are you alright?”

 

Keeping her eyes closed, she raises a hand and waves, “Fine, couldn’t be better.” Her voice is a little slurred but I blame it on her sleepiness. 

 

“Had a hard day?” I ask, finding a chair to sit down. Getting older can be a pain, especially when you spent more than half your life on your feet, serving hungry customers. So I use every opportunity to get my considerable weight off them. 

 

She smacks her lips and shakes her head, “Nope. I took the day off. Teddy came.”

 

Surprised, I blink. “He did?”

 

“Said he was sorry, but he couldn’t marry me.” She chuckles, “’Cause he’s gay, you know. He said nobody would believe us anyway.”

 

It’s not making a lot of sense, apart from the fact that I start to wonder if sleepiness is really Mel’s problem. “He came to tell you that he couldn’t marry you?”

 

“Well, yeah. At first. But … he said he was on my side. That if I needed money he’d give it to me without interest.” Again she smacks her lips, “You can tell Brian I’ve got the money to fight him. He’s not the only one able to hire a hot-shot lawyer now.”

 

Ah, finally, back to the matter I came for. “Honey, Brian doesn’t want to take the children from you. All he wants is to work out an arrangement so can see them. Like before.”

 

She laughs, a deep, strangely throaty sound, “So you fell for his bullshit, too. I should’ve known it. I wonder if he’s really a wizard.” Gesturing with her hands, she goes on, “He builds this huge spider-web and you, the little flies all flutter inside, and stick.”

 

Oh Mel! My heart breaks for her, seeing her like this, but there isn’t anything I can do. “Where is the baby?” I ask, suddenly noticing that she isn’t around.

 

“Nancy took her for the night,” she replies.

 

“Nancy?” 

 

“Lindsay’s mom,” she explains, and snickers. “We’re on first name terms now.”

 

In any other case I would welcome the thought of a grand-mother taking care of her daughters kids, but with Lindsay’s parents it makes my skin crawl. Linds told me more than once that her mother was a cold hearted bitch, that she would never want a child to grow up under her care. “You’re awfully cozy with your in-laws.”

 

Again she laughs that strange laugh, “They hate me. But after they lost Linds they discovered her offspring.”

 

Disturbed by the term, I suppress an angry retort, and ask instead, “Offspring?”

 

Her eyes open, they are dark, unfocussed, and now I’m convinced she’s taken something. “Well, that’s what they are. Linds offspring. They aren’t mine. Biologically I’ve got nothing to do with them.”

 

“You love them,” I reply, although right now I’m not convinced of that anymore. This woman, this creature, sprawled over the sofa, has nothing to do with the Melanie I used to know. 

 

“Nobody wants to hear that. You know, I wanted some nice anonymous donor, but Linds wanted Brian. It had to be Brian or nobody. I told her to ask Michael for the second baby, but she dug in her heels. So I gave it. I loved her,” tears well up, “I loved her. And I miss her. Why did she have to go. It’s the baby’s fault.”

 

“Oh God, Mel, don’t say something like that,” I plead, keeping an eye on Gus. He’s still busy with his fire engine, but if he’s anything like Michael at that age, he hears more than we all want right now. “They’re your kids. Brian gave you his parental rights because he trusts you to take care of them, to love them.”

 

My words don’t seem to register in her brain. She blinks, then yawns, “I’m tired. I should sleep.”

 

“What about Gus?” But obviously she’s already forgotten the kid is here.

 

“Take him with you, okay? He can stay with you.”

 

“I can’t take him tonight, honey. I have the graveyard shift later and-“

 

“Take him to Brian. He’ll be happy to have him.” Another laugh, then after a mere instant soft snoring. I can barely believe it, but she’s fast asleep. Even more disturbed than before, I watch her for a moment, see the steady rise and fall of her chest, and wonder how much of this she will remember tomorrow. Sighing, I get up and write her a short note, then walk over to Gus.

 

“How about seeing your Dad tonight, young man?”

 

“Yay, Dad!” he exclaims a smile worthy of Sunshine appearing on his face. 

 

“Do you have clothes at your Dad’s place?” I ask.

 

He nods, “Dad has a whole drawer just for me.”

 

“Great. Come on, Gus. We’re going to see your father.” I never dreamed I would ever say that, but being with Brian is a lot better for this kid than with his mother who seems to have lost all grip on reality. She needs help, and fast. Or she might be on her path to self-destruction.

 

*****

 

“Remember when you started making those posters against Stockwell?” Brian asks after a fucking session that left me too lazy to even lift my hand. 

 

“Sure.” I’m glad my mouth is still working, though it’s a miracle, really, after what I did with his dick. I smile wickedly.

 

“I wonder if that’s got something to do with Stockwell or what thoughts run through that brain of yours.” 

 

My grin widens, “I annihilated him.”

 

Brian doesn’t comment on it, instead he rolls to his side to look at me, “Even then I knew you could be a devious bastard if you wanted.”

 

I shrug, and mirror his movement. We are face to face now, very close, and I can feel his breath on my skin. Warm, moist, and smelling like me. Or rather my cum. I reach out and gently touch his cheek, “You’re still so beautiful, it sometimes hurts to look at you.”

 

His lips quirk on the right side, “I’m getting old, Justin.”

 

“Not for me.” I shake my hand, savoring the feeling of his skin under mine. His cheeks are stubbly, he hasn’t shaved since morning, but I don’t care. My thumb strokes his perfect nose. “You are up to something.”

 

He smiles, but it’s not his usual smile. His eyes twinkle and that’s almost always a sign for something brewing. “After I got my mother home, I called Cynthia and asked her to find out who wrote the article.”

 

My interest peaked, I ask, “And?”

 

“It’s a guy I once fucked. You probably won’t remember the name. He tried to fuck with me afterwards by suing me for sexual harassment.”

 

My mouth goes dry, my heart starts to hammer, “What?”

 

“Kip Thomas. A little slimy weasel. Not even worth mentioning. But Mel must have remembered him. She was my lawyer then. Seems Kip never made it to one of the top agencies, and ended up at a third class magazine instead. He usually draws up ads for their clients, but when Mel came to him he smelled the money.” When I don’t reply, his eyes sharpen, “Justin?”

 

God, what can I say. “Ah … yes, I remember him. He … he came to your loft.”

 

Brian nods, “Yeah. I fucked him in my office, then he was naked in my bed and I kind of-“

 

“Didn’t want to let the opportunity slip?” I ask flippantly, hoping he might not notice how nervous I am.

 

“Kind of, yeah. Anyway … When I didn’t want to push his career, it got ugly. Fortunately he later dropped the suit.” He rolls his tongue in his mouth, then sticks it in his cheek, “Someone made him do it.”

 

I lick my lips, “Someone?”

 

“Justin,” his eyes lock with mine, “I know it was you. I’ve known it all along.”

 

“W-what?” Is that my voice, so high and pinched? God!

 

“It’s okay. I never said something because,” he shrugs with one shoulder, “well, because I thought you might be embarrassed.”

 

Embarrassed? And he’s known, he’s known it all along! Christ! “How … how did you find out?”

 

His eyes turn dark, and his smile gets very gentle, very intimate, “Liberty Avenue isn’t the place to keep secrets. I went to Babylon a few days later and some guy told me he’d seen you together. I thought it was very sweet. Nobody ever did something like that for me.”

 

“I couldn’t just stand by and see you losing your job, and maybe everything,” I tell him, emotion running high inside of me. I still remember him writing a cheque for Linds while he had barely any money left. Does Mel even know what kind of man he is? She probably wouldn’t care anyway.

 

Sadness suddenly flickers over his features, “I was too fucked up then to realize what it meant. Linds knew,” he leans to me and brushes his lips over mine, “she told me you truly loved me.”

 

My throat feeling too tight for words, I choke, “I … d-did.”

 

“I know. Now I know. It’s because of you.” Again he kisses me, more deeply this time. “All because of you. You did this to me.”

 

My eyes start to water, “Oh, Brian.”

 

“What?” His thumb wipes a tear away, “Allergies?”

 

“No,” I shake my head, “you made me cry, you idiot.”

 

And another kiss. “I don’t care. I want you to know. I can even survive my mother loading down her shit on me. As long as you’re with me I’m invincible.”

 

“I love you. Oh, I love you so much.”

 

“I-“

 

The buzzer goes, and Brian curses. “Shit! Can’t a man have a moment with his boyfriend?”

 

I grin, “Boyfriend?”

 

He rolls his eyes, “Stop fishing. What the fuck do you think you are?” he asks as he slips from the bed and into his robe. “You’re practically living with me,” he goes on, walking towards the door, “your stuff is here-“

 

“You gave me the loft when you left.”

 

He stops in mid-stride and looks at me over his shoulder, “Oh, right. It’s yours anyway. Okay, so I’m living with you.”

 

I giggle and he opens the door with a flourish, “Whoever – Emmett?” I frown and pull on my sweatpants to join them. “Emmett?” I ask.

 

“Hi, sweetie!” he greets me with a smile. “Brian. Can I come in?”

 

“Sure,” I reply while Brian grumbles something unintelligible and walks into the kitchen. 

 

“Anyone coffee?”

 

Emmett gives me a sweet smile, and hands me the coat when I hold out my hands. “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

 

“You being here is trouble enough,” Brian replies, and I wink at Emmett. 

 

“Don’t mind him. He’s grumpy. He was about to confess his love for me.”

 

“Fuck you,” Brian shouts and spills water over his robe. “This is all your fault.”

 

“So he confesses now, does he?” Emmett looks at me with interest. 

 

I grin, “And then he wanted to fuck me – again.”

 

“So,” Brian returns, his face still wearing a scowl, “what brings you here?”

 

Em sighs deeply, “It’s Ted. I think he could be a problem.”

 

Before Brian can say anything, the buzzer goes again. He rolls his eyes, “What is this? Was my loft,” he pauses and looks at me, “sorry, your loft suddenly turned into Central Station without anyone giving us a warning?”

 

“I’ll go,” I tell him and pull the door open for Deb and Gus whose eyes are already drooping. “Gus.”

 

“Justin,” he says, and smiles. “Dad?” 

 

“Sonnyboy?” Brian materializes at my side, surprise clearly evident on his face. He scoops his son into his arms and they hug, then he looks at Deb, “What happened?”

 

“Later,” she replies with a nod at the boy in Brian’s arms.

 

“Are you tired, Gus?” Brian asks, already walking towards the stairs. “You want to sleep with Justin and me?”

 

“Yeah,” his son answers sleepily. “Mom was not nice to me, Dad.”

 

“She wasn’t?,” I hear Brian. 

 

“Nope. She was acting all funny.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me that tomorrow. You look like you’re falling asleep already.”

 

*****

 

Five minutes later, Brian is back, a frown on his face. “What happened?” he repeats his question from before. Debbie who is now sipping from a coffee, sighs deeply, “I think Mel’s taking something. The baby is with Linds’ parents by the way, and I don’t like it.”

 

“Me neither,” Brian agrees, starting to pace the loft. “Fuck.” He stops, “What do you mean, taking something? Drugs?”

 

“Drugs, maybe,” Deb replies, worry marring her face. “Some pills, I suppose. Maybe a tranquilizer, who knows. She was completely beside herself. I barely recognized her. Ted came to see her by the way.” This is directed at Emmett, who straightens instantly.

 

“Oh no.”

 

But Deb already shakes her head, “No, he didn’t offer to marry her.”

 

“Excuse me,” Brian cuts in, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“That’s why I came,” Emmett explains. “Ted was acting strange this morning. Michael told us about Mel’s proposal and Ted was defending her. Suddenly he got up and left, mumbling something about an appointment he’d forgotten about.”

 

“So he went to see Mel?” I ask, looking at Deb.

 

She nods, “Yeah. From what I could understand, he told her that a marriage was out of the question. Nobody would believe it anyway.”

 

“At least he hasn’t lost it completely,” Emmett murmurs, relief in his eyes.

 

“However,” Deb goes on, “he offered her financial support should she need it. She wants me to tell you,” she turns her head towards Brian, “that she can hire herself a hot-shot lawyer now.”

 

“Oh good,” Brian doesn’t seem to be impressed, “let her go on. After her little stunt with Kip Thomas nothing will surprise me anymore.”

 

“Kip – who?” Emmett wears a puzzled look on his face.

 

“The guy who wrote the article. I met him before,” Brian explains.

 

Deb raises a brow, “Meaning you fucked him.”

 

“Yeah,” he replies and we share a smile. “Anyway … he’s obviously still holding a grudge and used the opportunity to get back at me.”

 

“Brian, Brian,” Debbie shakes her head and sighs, “I always knew your past would one day come back to haunt you.”

 

“Fuck off,” he hisses, and I put a comforting hand on his back, when suddenly the phone rings. “What now?” he asks, rolling his eyes and snatching the receiver from the counter. “Yeah? Who? … Rev … oh yeah, I remember you,” his voice is all silk, “very well. What’s the matter? My mother not enough for you anymore, you need another Kinney for soul-saving? … What? What the fuck happened? … Why did you call me? My mother and I don’t- … I see. Well, Reverend, I’m not interested. You can sit with her and hold her hand. … Not interested.” He closes his eyes while he continues to listen and pinches the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “Shit, I don’t want to - … Yeah, I understand. … Okay, fuck, I’ll be there, in an hour. … Yeah, fuck you, too.”

 

Concerned I rush over to him, “Brian? What is it?”

 

He looks around, his eyes a little unfocussed, then they settle on me, “Reverend Tom found my mother. She was passed out on the sofa in her living room. No surprise there. But then he found an empty pill bottle. Seems she tried to relieve me off her existence once and for all.”

 

“Oh God,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his middle, not in the least surprised to find him shivering. For all his bravado, I know he cares deeply for the woman. “Where is she?”

 

“At the hospital. The good Reverend is with her, and wants me to come and see her. I also need to sign stuff.” His arms tighten around me and he holds me close. “Shit! I really don’t need this.” 

 

“I’ll come with you,” I say not waiting for him to argue. I let go of him and walk towards the bedroom.

 

“Deb,” I hear him ask, “can you watch out for Gus?”

 

“I’m sorry Brian-“

 

“I can stay,” Emmett offers. 

 

“Okay, thanks,” Brian replies and follows me into the bedroom, coming to stand beside me at the closet. “Shit,” he mutters.

 

“I’m so sorry,” because of Gus I keep my voice low. “But it’ll be okay.”

 

He pauses for a moment, and shakes his head, “No, it won’t.” When I look at him in alarm, he kisses me, “Don’t worry, Sunshine. I told you, with you at my side, I can take anything. And now, let’s get dressed.”


	17. Wild Shores

We step from the elevator and I’m hit with a flood of memories. Gus, so small I’m afraid he might break, Justin, his head smeared with blood, his eyes closed, lifeless. Lindsay, smiling up at me, full of motherly pride, her face glowing with happiness. And the last of Lindsay, still, but still breathing. I never saw her dead body, and I’m grateful. I don’t want to remember her with her life gone. It’s not how she was, it’s not how I want to hold her to my heart. 

 

I feel Justin’s hand on my back, lending me silent support. My nerves settle a little, but I still feel like fidgeting with something. I don’t know if my father died here. Nobody ever told me, and I never asked.

 

“Brian.” 

 

I blink and see Reverend Tom move towards us. He’s gotten older which isn’t surprising, it’s been more than five years. His hair is slightly darker, but his eyes are the same, kind, watchful. 

 

“Reverend,” I say, letting my tongue wander in my cheek. As much as I try, I will always remember him all fours, screaming like a pig, begging me to fuck him harder. God, what a hypocrite. 

 

“I remember you,” he says when his eyes fall on Justin, then they light up with surprise. “You’re still together?” Something like awe lies in his voice. 

 

Justin shrugs, but doesn’t comment. I put my arm around his shoulder, “This is Justin. Let’s get to business. My son is waiting for me at home.”

 

“Joan told me about him. She says he’s delightful.” I’ve always hated the clerical types. They all have this strange lilt in their voices as if they’re always sermoning. So I try picturing him the way I remember him, on his hands and knees in front of me.

 

Not reacting to the comment, I nod at the reception, “You mentioned on the phone that I have to sign stuff.”

 

“Yes, her admission papers. You are named as the closest relative.”

 

Now that surprises me. Why would she name me? Then I remember that Clair is living in California these days. Happy cunt. And yay me for getting rid of her and her brood that easily. “Fine,” I steer Justin towards the admission desk. 

 

A nurse who is busy sorting through papers raises her head and her eyes narrow slightly at seeing my arm around Justin’s shoulders. For a moment I consider kissing him, but then decide that it’s too immature even for me. “My mother was brought here a few hours ago.”

 

“And who are you?” she asks, none too friendly. 

 

“Her son,” I reply. At Justin snicker, I sigh, “My name’s Brian Kinney.”

 

“Ah,” she nods, producing a couple of papers. “Please sign these, and fill in the missing details. Insurance and some other things.” With that she turns away and start attacking the keyboard of a computer that looks as if it’s seen better days. 

 

I frown, looking down at the forms. How the fuck am I supposed to fill in the blanks? I barely know the woman. I certainly have no idea what kind of insurance she has? But then, this is Joan Kinney, she probably never changed it in her life. So I just use the one we had when I was a kid and hope I’m not wrong. Does she take any drugs? 

 

“Nurse?”

 

After exhaling a painful sigh, she turns, “Yes?” 

 

“I can’t tell you if she takes any drugs.”

 

One of her brows comes up, “She is your mother, isn’t she?”

 

Instantly feeling anger in my gut, I straighten, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Brian.” Justin’s hand settles on my shoulder and squeezes it slightly, before he turns to the nurse from hell. “Why do you need to know that? She tried to kill herself, isn’t that enough?”

 

Bristling a little, she purses her lips, “We need to know if … well, if she might need any heart medication.”

 

“This is a hospital,” Justin replies smoothly. “Can’t you find out?”

 

I bite my lips to keep myself from laughing. He looks like an angel, but he clearly isn’t one. “As for the insurance … if there’s a problem I’m going to pay.”

 

“Very well,” she nods at me, giving me another of those looks she must have perfected over many years, and takes the papers from me. “If you want to see her now, she’s in room 411.” With that she turns back to her computer.

 

Justin and I exchange a glance. I would like to leave but I know it’s not an option. Partly because I know Justin would be disappointed in me, and well … even though she’s a cold-hearted bitch she’s still my mother. She hasn’t acted like it for a long time, but it’s still a fact that’s hard to ignore. 

 

When we turn into the hallway that leads to her room, the good Reverend steps in our way. “She’s still asleep,” he informs us. 

 

I merely raise a brow, but Justin elbows me in the ribs. Shooting him a glare, I sigh, “Look, I know you and my mother share some kind of strange friendship or something-“

 

“Your mother,” he interrupts, “is a very lonely, and often a very desperate woman, Brian.”

 

Resisting the urge to snap at him, I simply cock my head, “And I need to know this, why?”

 

For a moment he seems shocked, but then the Reverend in him wins and a benevolent smile settles on his face. “I understand that you’re angry-“

 

“You don’t know shit,” I snarl. “You think because you see her all the time that you know, but you haven’t been there when Jack beat the shit out of me and she stood there and let it happen. You were not there when she refused my embrace. You. Were. Not. There. So don’t come to me and tell me you understand what’s going on.” I feel Justin’s hand on my back, and take a deep breath, “The woman in the room down the hallway might be the one who brought me to life, but she’s lost the right to call herself mother a long time ago.”

 

“Brian, I just want-“

 

“I don’t care what you want. I signed the papers, I told them I’d cover her damned costs, and now I’m going to see her, but you stay away from me.” Nudging Justin forward we start to walk towards Joan’s room, but then I remember something and turn to the good Reverend for one last time, “You should clean up your life first, Tom, before you start giving others advice.” 

 

*****

 

“Dad?”

 

“Hey, Gus,” I smile at him, closing the latest issue of Vogue I’ve been flipping through for the last ten minutes. “You woke up.” Okay, that sounded dumb, but fortunately Gus is only five and won’t mind.

 

I see his lower lip starting to quiver, and my insides follow swift. Oh God, what if he starts to cry? I really hate it when children cry, mostly because I have no idea how to handle them. “Where is my Dad?”

 

“You dad had to go to the hospital because his mom is ill.” When I was a kid I always hated that people thought I was too dumb to deal with the truth and so I’ve made a vow that I’ll never lie to child in my life. They can take a lot more than we give them credit for. 

 

“His … mom?” For a moment he looks irritated, but then he nods almost solemnly. “She came to see me.”

 

I try not to let my surprise show, “She did? That’s great.”

 

“Mom was mean to me,” he says suddenly out of the blue.

 

“Moms sometimes have to be,” I reply, not quite sure how to react. 

 

“She hit me,” he blurts out and I can barely hold back a shocked gasp. “Sally, the stupid girl who always makes fun of me in school, her dad hits her, too.”

 

Oh God, I wish someone was here, but me. Brian. Or Deb. Or … Ted. I suppose even Teddy would deal with this a lot better than me. What am I supposed to do now? “Uh … she hit you?”

 

“Uh-huh,” he nods with a serious expression on his face and comes over to where I’m still sitting on the couch. After a short hesitation he climbs on it next to me. “How come you are here, Em?”

 

“Well, Justin and your dad had to go to see your Grandma, and Debbie has to work,” I explain. 

 

His cute button nose wrinkles a little, “Debbie took me to see Dad. Mom was asleep. She’s acing funny, Em.” He wriggles closer and his voice lowers to a whisper, “Can you keep a secret?”

 

I make the sign of a cross in front of my heart and hold up two fingers, “I’m known to be the best secret keeper ever.” Which, of course, is a lie. I’m the worst there is. I couldn’t keep a secret if my life depended on it, but Gus doesn’t know that. 

 

He giggles a little, then continues to whisper, “Sometimes, when Mom is acting funny, I’m a little afraid of her.”

 

Suppressing the instant shock, I gulp, “Did … uh … did she hit you before?” Yep, I know it’s probably none of my business, but I can’t help thinking that Brian should maybe know about this. I mean, if Mel’s really about to go over the edge, it might be dangerous for the kids to stay with her.

 

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, and once again his lower lip starts to quiver, “Why did Mommy have to go, Em?”

 

Holy Christ, how am I supposed to answer that one? “You know,” I start, thinking back to the day when my mother died. I was twelve, but I thought the world was going to end, “my Mommy died when I was young too.”

 

“She did?” I see the interest in his eyes, reach out and stroke a hand over his soft hair. 

 

“Yes. She was … ill. And then, one day she died. My aunt, my Mommy’s sister, took care of me, and I loved her, but I always missed my Mommy. But one thing I know for sure, she’s never stopped loving me, and she’ll always be here.” I put a palm over my heart, then the other over Gus’. “And your Mommy will always be there.”

 

His eyes tear up and I wonder if it was the right thing to say. After all, he’s just a little boy. But he blinks them away quickly and instead stares at his hand over his heart in wonder. “Do you think she hears me when I talk to her?”

 

“I’m sure, Gus. She hears everything. And she loves you.” Maybe dealing with a kid isn’t that bad. Plus, I really like the little boy. I wonder if Brian looked as cute as his son. Everyone keeps telling me that Gus is his spitting image. 

 

I’m a little overwhelmed when suddenly a warm bundle climbs onto my lap and wraps his arms around my neck, “Em?”

 

“What, sweetie?” 

 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“I’m glad, too.” And strangely enough I am. It feels right to hold Gus, to talk to him. He’s so sweet and trusting, and I wonder if Mel even realizes what treasure she has in him. 

 

“Em?” I smile, still so caught up in my momentary bliss, that I almost miss the twinkle in his eyes. 

 

“Gus?”

 

He giggles, and I now definitely know he’s his father’s son. “Can we play?”

 

Uh-oh. “Play?”

 

“Uh-huh. When I’m over, Dad and I always play Hide and Seek.”

 

“You do?” Not on my life I can see Brian play Hide and Seek. 

 

“Uh-huh.” He looks at me with wide, innocent eyes. And he looks so cute, I would buy everything he was selling if he stood in front of my door. He might even convert me into a Jehowa’s witness. I wonder if that’s the way he manages to even wrap a bad ass like Brian around his little finger? He’ll raise hell when he grows up, I’m sure.The thought of Brian having to deal with a teenaged Gus makes me grin. Gus, of course, takes it as a yes, and with a ‘yay’ scrambles from my lap and looks at me expectantly. 

 

“Alright,” I sigh, “what do I have to do?”

 

“You close your eyes and count to thirty. And I’m going to hide,” he replies with a big grin. 

 

Giving in I do as he said. After all, Hide and Seek sounds pretty innocent, right?

 

*****

 

“Hey, Hunter?” The boy at the door turns, and I grin, “Don’t be a stranger.”

 

“I’ll try, Deb,” he replies, his eyes far too serious for someone his age. It’s no wonder after what the boy’s been through. I watch him leave and sigh. At least he’s managed to turn his life around thanks to Ben and Michael. Yes, Michael behaved like a little shit at first, but in the end he came around. After the initial shock about being HIV-positive has faded, Hunter decided that if he wanted to do something with is life, he’d better do it soon. 

 

He stopped hustling, and thanks to a loan Ben gave him, managed to finish his High-school. Around that time a new project was started about street-kids around Liberty Avenue and because of his past, Hunter seemed to be the right guy to work with those kids. He’s done a world of good, and so far he’s even managed to stay healthy. He had one or two setbacks and one prolonged stay at the hospital, but each time he pulled through and came up stronger in the end. 

 

I sigh when the bell above the door announces another late customer, my legs are hurting like hell already, but then find myself pleasantly surprised when I see Jennifer Taylor. “Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask. It’s practically in the middle of the night. 

 

She shakes her head and climbs on a stool with a heavy sigh. “Molly’s spending some days with a friend and I … felt lonely, I guess.” 

 

I have to grin, “And so you came here?”

 

She laughs slightly at that, “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

 

Walking around the counter, I put a hand on her shoulder, “Welcome to the club, honey.” Then I remember that she and Joan Kinney have become … well, not close, but well acquainted over the past weeks. “Jennifer, there’s something you need to know.”

 

Instant alarm enters her eyes, “What happened?”

 

“Brian’s mother tried to kill herself tonight. It’s going to be okay, Justin called just half an hour ago and told me she’ll be fine.”

 

“Oh my God. This is … Poor Brian.” She shakes her head and blinks tears away. I’m not sure for whom they are, but it’s probably not important anyway. 

 

I pat her shoulder, “Justin’s with him. With Sunshine there, he’ll manage.”

 

“I hope so,” she sniffles. “Oh, Deb, this is a nightmare. Won’t those boys ever get a rest?”

 

“They will,” I tell her, not sure which one of us needs to hear the words most. She’s right. The boys had a lot of shit thrown their way. But at least they’re together, and maybe, in the end, getting through it will make their relationship stronger. Michael, however … I’ve barely spoken to my son since he told me he and Carl won’t get back together. I’m still hoping this was his final wake up call, or maybe the fact that Brian made it perfectly clear that there’s no future for them on the horizon, but the skeptical part of me just refuses to believe it.

 

“But when?” Jennifer asks, motherly concern marring her features. “After what Justin went through with Ethan, I just wish he could have a moment to breathe. Or to enjoy his relationship with Brian. I had such a good feeling about Joan and Brian … she’s really trying. But now … I can’t believe she would do something like that.”

 

“It’s always hard to believe-“ I start, but she interrupts me with a shake of her head. 

 

“No, I mean … Yes, I believe that, too. But Joan, she’s very religious and it’s not just a word for her. Suicide is a mortal sin for her. Maybe … maybe it was just an accident?”

 

“Maybe,” I reply, but can’t help doubting. For me, Joan Kinney is nothing but a Bible-thumping bitch who uses the words when they’re convenient for her. Whatever she does now, I’ll never forgive her for what she did to that boy of hers. Accusing him of molesting his own nephew. She has no idea how much she hurt him, how deep the pain went. I thought he’d never recover. But because he’s much stronger than people give him credit for he did – well, kind of. Sunshine returning to Pittsburgh really was a Godsend for Brian. And of course also the other way around, but that goes without saying.

 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Jennifer squeezes her eyes shut, and after taking a deep breath, opens them again. “What about Melanie? Did you talk to her?”

 

“Oh yes.” I’m not sure I like this change of subject. The whole thing with Mel almost makes me physically ill. I’ve known the girl for half an eternity and suddenly I don’t know her at all. It’s hard to believe. “

 

“And?” She looks at me expectantly as if I could change the fate of the world. 

 

I shrug, “It was depressing. I’m not sure if she’s taking something, but it sure looks that way. Let’s just hope it’s maybe an anti-depressant her doctor prescribed.” I cluck my tongue, “Anyway. I ended up taking Gus to Brian because I couldn’t just leave him with a mother who barely registered he was there at all.”

 

Her eyes widen, “It was that bad?”

 

“Bad enough,” I confirm with a sigh. 

 

“And the baby?”

 

“That’s another thing I don’t like. Nope, I don’t like it at all.”

 

“What?”

 

“She’s with Lindsay’s mother. And Nancy Peterson’s probably not much better than Joan Kinney …,” I see the look on Jennifer’s face, and add, “was.”

 

With a slight smile, she nods, “I understand. I saw her at the funeral. She seemed broken with grief.”

 

“I saw her too.” And I did. But unlike Jennifer, who doesn’t really know Linds’ parents, I didn’t buy the act for a second. Nancy never gave a rat’s ass for her daughter’s feelings. And I don’t like the idea of her using the baby to create another little Lindsay. Sara is her own person and she has to be looked at that way. Which reminds me… “You know,” I look at Jennifer, “I just had a very disturbing thought.”

 

“What?”

 

“Lindsay’s parents have what the straight world would probably call a perfect home. They’re rich, educated, well spoken. What if Nancy Peterson doesn’t just want to babysit the kids?”

 

She blinks, obviously not quite able to follow, “What are you talking about?”

 

I don’t blame her, I have problems following my own thoughts, too. “Well, what if they’re planning to take them away? What if they’re planning to sue for custody themselves?”


	18. Wild Shores

Brian is too worked up after leaving the hospital and so I insist making a stop at the diner before going back to the loft. Brian is in no shape to see Gus right now, even though his son usually has a calming effect on him. But tonight he is too raw to accept loving, and with Gus at home, we can’t just fuck each other into oblivion. 

 

I’m not really surprised when he pulls the car over a few blocks from the diner, rests his arms on the steering wheel and releases a long gush of air, through barely parted lips. The hissing sound is the only noise disturbing the quiet. Even the area around Liberty Avenue goes to sleep at four in the morning. 

 

There’s no relaxation in his body, it’s coiled tight like a spring and ready to strike if necessary. Not that there are any dangers looming in the dark outside the car, it’s more his inner demons that, once again, have been raising their ugly heads. This very moment I understand why he tried to leave Pittsburgh and me, what he tried to save me from. Maybe if I were in his place I’d have done the same, but I’m not, and I still want him, demons and all, as long as I can get him. Because underneath all that garbage, there is the most wonderful soul I’ve ever seen, one of the most caring and loving men, and the one I love beyond all reason. I’m not sure what he would have to do to make me stop, not sure it is even possible.

 

“Thanks.” 

 

His voice breaks the silence and startled from my inner musings I turn my head to find him leaning his against the steering wheel, his eyes closed. 

 

“What for?”

 

“For bringing me here.” He rolls his lips inward, then presses them together.

 

“I didn’t do anything. You drove the car,” I tell him gently, finally daring to reach out and touch him. My palm settles on his shoulder and I can feel his hard muscles underneath. Definitely coiled like a spring.

 

“I don’t want Gus to see me like this.” Taking a deep breath he straightens and looks at me, his eyes nothing but two dark, liquid pools in the dark, glittering almost dangerously. But I’ve never been afraid of this man, and I will never be. “He’s too young to understand what’s going on. It’s enough that he has to deal with Mel’s problems these days.”

 

“He’s going to be okay.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “He’s a tough little guy.” He chuckles a little, and I hear amazement in the sound, “Who would’ve thought that one day I’d be proud of my son?”

 

“You’ve always loved him, I could tell from the start.” I have to smile thinking of him in that hospital room, his eyes staring with sheer disbelief at what he’d helped to create. This was a tiny human being and it was part of him, would always be. 

 

“I never expected it. But Gus – and you – made me see that …,” he pauses and chuckles again, “I’m not as fucked up as I thought. Even Jack and Joanie couldn’t …” He trails off, then suddenly his hand slams on the steering wheel and he shouts, “Fuck!”, almost making me jump in my seat. 

 

“It’s okay,” I whisper, letting my palm draw soothing circles over his back. 

 

“No, it’s not,” he replies, shaking his head. “Why did she have to go and take those pills? I thought I was done with her, but now … Shit!” Without warning he reaches for me and pulls me over, and starts to kiss me with such force, I just know my lips will be bruised for days, but it only takes me the split of a moment to return it. I knew it from the moment we left the hospital that he needs this, that somehow he needs the release and I want to be the one offering it. I’m his partner, and I know we’ll never get married or do any other straight shit, but I’ll still be there for him through good and bad times. And I know it’s the same for him. We don’t need to exchange words to be sure of it. Not anymore. 

 

His hands pull me even closer, now burying themselves in my hair, combing it, and the motion is oddly intimate as if he’d trying to crawl underneath my skin, to make us one. 

 

“Brian,” I moan, my own hands starting to grope at his clothes. “Oh God, Brian.” My dick is so hard I’m afraid it’ll burst my pants, and I fumble for Brian’s zipper, finding his equally erect. I free it with nimble fingers and wrap them around it. Brian stiffens for a moment, then exhales a groan into my mouth. God, it’s hot in here, even though it’s so cold outside. It’s been a long time since I had sex in a car and for a moment a giggle bubbles in my chest. For a moment I feel like a carefree teenager, but only for a moment, because in the next his hands grab my cock and squeeze.

 

“Ahhhhh …,” is my eloquent reaction, and he chuckles against my throat. 

 

“Like that, Sonnyboy?”

 

Like? “Less talk, more action,” I urge, and again he chuckles, but continues to squeeze and pull, then suddenly he lowers his head and takes it in his mouth, the warmth and wetness of it making me shudder violently. Letting go of his dick, my hands claw their way into his hair, my hips arching towards him as his talented tongue swirls around the head, making my cock twitch. “I … I’m going to …. ahhhhhhh.”

 

I spurt into his mouth and he swallows it all, before his head comes up and he grins at me, at least I think he does. All I can see is a flash of white teeth in the darkness. “Someone needed it bad,” he jokes, licking his lips provocatively. 

 

“Is that a hint?” I ask, mirroring his previous actions, until I can taste his salty essence. 

 

Panting, he smiles when I come up again, “Keep the clothes clean.” I smile and we kiss, leisurely this time. Our lips part and I feel his breath on my lips. “I love you, Justin,” he whispers. “I love you.”

 

“Love you, too.” Both statements are delivered with easy, and it makes my heart soar. Amidst all the shit thrown at us, this one still holds, and it’ll get us through it. I’m sure.

 

*****

 

I have to blink as soon as we step into the diner, finding not only Deb but my mom, too. “Mom?” 

 

“Justin, sweetie,” she climbs down from the stool and envelopes me in a motherly hug. “How is Joan?” The question is directed at Brian, who instantly frowns. 

 

Ignoring my mother’s question, he turns to Deb, “Can I have some coffee?”

 

“Sure, honey,” she tells him, giving me a concerned glance. 

 

“What happened?” Mom whispers, drawing me to the side and away from Brian. The way he instantly shut down at her question makes me wish she wasn’t here at all. Damn. 

 

I sigh, “She’s in a coma after obviously taking an overdose. But the doctor is pretty positive, she’ll make it. Her minister was there.”

 

“How did Brian take it?” I can see the concern in her eyes and give her a small smile. Even though she puts her foot in her mouth sometimes I still know she means well. At least since she’s cool with Brian and me back together.

 

“He hates the fact that he’s forced to deal with it. You know how he feels about his mother.” And I have to admit, I can understand it. After what I’ve witnessed from Joan Kinney over the past weeks, I’m almost surprised he went to the hospital at all. Deb once told me that part of Brian’s problem was his innate goodness. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. 

 

“I can’t believe she did that.” Mom shakes her head. “She seemed so positive, so determined to make amends with Brian and to build a relationship with her grand-children.” Again she shakes her head, “Was it because of the article in that horrible magazine?”

 

I look into her eyes, but find nothing but support, “We don’t know. She turned up drunk at Brian’s office and accused him of ruining her life.” 

 

A hand flies to her mouth, “Oh, no. How awful.”

 

“You can say that. Brian was … He always tries to pretend it doesn’t matter, but it hurt him.” I take a deep breath, “Anyway, he left her at her house, and the next we heard was that she was at the hospital.”

 

“I still have a hard time-“ 

 

“What?” Brian’s voice interrupts us. I’d been so focused on my mother I never saw him join us in the corner. “That she’s capable of something like that? Newsflash, Jennifer. Joanie never cared for anything but Joanie’s little world. Oh, and God of course. At least the way she makes him.”

 

“Justin said she’s going to be okay.”

 

He snorts, “It needs more than a few pills to bring Joan Kinney down, believe me.” Closing his eyes for a moment he rubs his forehead with weary movements. 

 

“There’s your coffee, honey.” Deb puts the cup on the table behind us, and gives me another of her concerned glances. There were times when I wanted to kill her for how she treated him, but through it all she’s never stopped loving him, either. And knowing Brian, he would’ve resented her for trying to cuddle him. Maybe he needed the way she wasn’t buying his shit. He knows her so well, and understands that it’s her way to show she cares. She would just ignore him if she didn’t. 

 

“Thanks.” Brian’s voice sounds tired and strained. He empties half the cup with one large gulp, then slides into the booth and leans his head back against the wall. After a moment he looks at her, “I gave them my address and signed some papers to cover her expenses. He chuckles harshly, and I hate to hear the sound, knowing that he’s hurting. Letting go of my mother’s hand, I slide into the booth beside him, touching his thigh. His eyes lock with mine and for a moment the tension in him seems to lessen. Covering my hand with his, he squeezes, “I’m okay, Sunshine.”

 

I smile at him, “I know.” And I do. Even if it’s not quite true now, I know he will be. “You did all you could.”

 

Again the chuckle. Then a slight shake of his head before he drinks the rest of his coffee. “I’m going to hire a nurse to look at her at home for a while. The doctor also suggested therapy. Not that she’s going to do it, but I’m going to call Peter.”

 

Surprised I look at him, “Peter?” We haven’t mentioned his name since the afternoon he told Brian about his feelings for me.

 

He shrugs, “I doubt he’ll develop the hots for my mother.” We share a quick smile, before he gets serious again. “He’s good.”

 

“Yeah, he is,” I agree, feeling a small stab of disappointment. I so hoped we and Peter could become real friends. Unfortunately it’s not going to happen. And after what he did, and the way he handled things, I’m not sure I’ll still want it. 

 

“Peter?” Deb asks, now occupying the booth across – together with Jennifer.

 

“He is … was Brian’s and Justin’s therapist.”

 

“Holy Shit,” Deb stares at us in awe. “So it’s true. You were really seeing a shrink.”

 

Annoyed Brian frowns, “Yeah. So?”

 

“Nothing,” she gives him a quick, and thoroughly pleased, smile. “You’re gonna send him to your mom?”

 

“That’s the plan,” he confirms, absentmindedly playing with his empty cup.

 

“You want another one?” Deb asks.

 

“No thanks. I need to sleep for a few hours.” He suddenly groans, “Which won’t be a lot because Gus is there. With Emmett of all people.”

 

“Emmett is a good guy,” Deb assures us.

 

“A good guy,” Brian echoes, rolling his eyes.”

 

Deb slaps his hand, but grins, “Okay, so he’s a big kid. It’s just what Gus needed tonight.” 

 

“Maybe,” Brian agrees grudgingly. “I’m just wondering if the loft is going to survive it.”

 

*****

 

“Do you really think Deb’s right about Mel taking drugs?”

 

“Everything’s possible,” I reply, not looking at Justin while I fumble the key into the lock. “The problem is, I’m not sure if we should celebrate because she made such a fucking mistake or feel sad because of Gus.”

 

“I know,” he replies. “At least it’s a good thing that Gus … what the hell happened?”

 

Justin’s exclamation has me turning around … and I feel as if my jaw’s going to hit the ground. “What the fuck?” 

 

“Hi, guys.” We both look towards the sofa where we find Emmett sitting in the middle of mountain of pillows, a sleeping Gus in his lap. “You’re probably asking yourself what’s going on, right?”

 

“Uh … yeah,” I manage, trying to catalogue the destruction in front of my eyes. And I thought the night couldn’t get any worse. 

 

Keeping his voice low, Emmett strokes a palm over Gus’ back, “We played Hide and Seek.”

 

“Hide and Seek?” I ask, still too dumbfounded to make any deep comments about this disaster area. The chairs are turned upside down. The mattress lies in the middle of the living area, our bed sheets are draped over the stairs. 

 

“Yeah,” he confirms. “Then we had our own private picnic.”

 

Justin and I exchange a look, his clearly saying ‘three guesses whose idea that was’. “And in order to do that you had to go and … redecorate?”

 

I see Emmett flush at that, “Uh … I suppose we went a little overboard, huh?”

 

“A little?” I ask loudly. Justin nudges me and I repeat in a whisper. “You call that a little? Boy, I never want to see when you really hit the roof.”

 

“It was Gus idea,” Emmett defends himself. “He said you and he were playing it all the time.”

 

“And you believed it?” I ask incredulously. 

 

“He is your son,” Justin throws in as if it explains everything. 

 

I raise my brows, “So?”

 

He shrugs and calmly walks over to the kitchen, then comes back with two glasses of orange juice, handing one of them to me. 

 

Taking first a sip, then a deep breath, I gaze at Emmett holding Gus so lovingly. “Anyway. Emmett you’re over thirty-“

 

“You had to remind me of that,” he winces.

 

Frowning a little and ignoring Justin’s suppressed giggle, I take another deep breath, “What I’m talking about is, that you, Emmett, are the adult here. How could you let this happen?” I indicate the loft and notice that there are glasses and plates in one corner. Praying for patience, something I clearly feel slipping rapidly, I empty the glass and hand it back to Justin. Shaking my head, I kiss him on the cheek, “This is a nightmare. You deal with it. I might kill him.” 

 

Walking towards the bedroom, I hear Justin’s amused voice, “Just ignore him. He likes to bark, but he rarely bites.”

 

Emmett laughs at that, and I shake my head, feeling a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Justin knows me far too well, but there really interesting part is, I don’t give a fuck. Clearly I’m doomed!


	19. Wild Shores

The pounding on the door won’t cease and I blink to find out what’s going on. I find myself on the sofa, the bright light from the outside hurting my eyes as they try to adjust. Again the pounding sounds through the house and I sigh. Getting up, I have to grab the back of the sofa to keep myself from falling back down. Everything’s spinning and for a moment I wonder if the pounding is in my head only. 

 

“Damn,” I mutter. When was the last time I woke up like this? I’m not sure, but it’s been a long, long time ago. 

 

“Melanie, open up. Now!” 

 

Oh shit! The mother-in-law. Just the person I want to see bright and early in the morning. I have to look like shit, I’m still in my yesterday’s clothes, and I reek. Fuck! 

 

“Melanie! I know you’re in there. Open the door!” This time the words are accompanied by a scream and I instantly know it’s my daughter. Lindsay’s daughter. 

 

In three strides I’m at the door and force a smile on my face when I open it. “Nancy! What a surprise in the morning.”

 

Her eyes narrow, no doubt at my less than shiny appearance, as she pushes the baby in my arms. “She kept us up all night. She’s worse than Lindsay ever was.” 

 

Only now I notice her slightly disheveled appearance and for a moment I wonder if snickering would be considered rude. Linds would have a blast. As always thinking about her gives me a quick stab of pain around my heart, and I wonder if there’ll be a time when it won’t feel as if my other half is missing? At the same time panic seizes me. What if I forget about her? What if one day I wake up and don’t remember what she looked like? 

 

My daughter’s eyes open, they’re still unfocussed. Gus’ were too when he was her age. Sara. I frown inwardly. No way I’m going to call her Sara. Fucking Kinney. Ever since Deb mentioned the name I can’t get it out of my head. It’s bad enough that he named Gus. Gus! I’ll never get used to that. 

 

“I know, I said I would keep her for the day,” Nancy says, running a slightly shaky hand through her hair, “but I can’t. I’m not fit anymore to take care of a baby full time.” Suddenly she cranes her neck, “Where is my sweet, little Gus.”

 

Gus? Oh God, where is Gus. I start to tremble. I can’t remember. “Gus … is still asleep.”

 

“Asleep?” Disbelief is written all over her face. “He’s always up and running early in the morning.”

 

Annoyed, I make a step toward her, “Well, today he’s still in bed. You really look as if you could use a nap.”

 

Distracted for the time being, she nods, “Indeed.” She sighs heavily, “Maybe you should consider hiring a nanny. They do so much good. We always had them, and they did a marvelous job.”

 

Lindsay’s voice sounds in my head, that she never wanted her kids to grow up with a nanny. That she hated it when she was still little. “I don’t want a nanny taking care of my children,” I tell her, not even thinking about it. I want this woman to leave, so I can go and see where Gus is. God, why can’t I remember? 

 

Nancy’s brows rise, “Very well. If you need anything, give me a call.” Then she turns and heads for a her car, her head high, her shoulders straight. Even exhausted, appearances are everything to her. Would Linds want her to look after the kids? No way. Linds would probably slam the door in her mother’s face. Oh God! Again I start to tremble. The baby in my arms starts to fuss. What am I doing? What is happening here? Where is my son? 

 

Holding the baby tightly to my chest, I race up the stairs into his room, but before I can shout his name, I see the empty bed, the sheets untouched, the stuffed animals where they should be. 

 

Oh God! 

 

My son is gone and I don’t know where he is. I stare at the baby, who stares right back, her eyes huge. I’m not sure she’s really looking at me, but it feels weird, almost as if she’s accusing me. Of what? Three guesses. That I’m a shitty mother, a shitty person, not fit to have them in the first place. Linds would be so disappointed. She would look at me the way her daughter does now, and like now, I’d feel like a bitch.

 

And then the phone rings. Clutching the baby again, I race back down and snatch it from the wall, “Yes?”

 

“Hi, Mel, honey.” It’s Deb. “How are you this morning?”

 

I want to tell her, I’m fine. Want to tell her that nothing’s wrong, but only a sob comes out. “Oh, Deb,” I sniff, “do you … do you know where Gus is?”

 

“Oh, honey,” her voice is soft, and compassionate, and if I wasn’t as desperate as I am I’d resent the hell out of her for it. As it is, I have to press my lips together to keep myself from breaking down completely. I lost my son. I’m an unfit mother. “He’s with Brian.”

 

Brian? Instantly the panic is gone and anger settles in my gut. “Brian” I ask, my voice low and laced with barely contained anger. 

 

For a moment Deb is silent, then she says, “You were in no condition to take care of him last night, and I had the graveyard shift at the diner.” Another pause, then, “He is his father, Mel. You can’t keep ignoring that. Gus loves Brian. And Justin.”

 

“Justin.” I can’t help it, the word leaves my mouth in a sneer. Just because he and Brian are playing house right now, nobody can say how long it’s going to last. We’ve all seen it before. Not even Lindsay, the eternal optimist, thought it had a future. We were all glad when Justin found Ethan. Shit! Ethan. And we all saw how well that went. 

 

I sigh, wishing I had a free hand to rub my forehead where it’s throbbing like crazy. Booze and pills? Believe me, not a healthy combination. Again, the baby is fussing, and starting to gurgle.

 

“Is that Sara with you?” 

 

Sara! The fucking name. It’s probably going to stick, and Brian’s won again. I wish I wouldn’t resent him the way I do, but I can’t help it. I could never understand what Linds ever saw in him. From the first moment I met him I knew he was an irresponsible, selfish asshole. Responsibility was a foreign language to him. All he cared for was to get his dick sucked, not caring who did it. And even though I have to admit that he changed – marginally – I still don’t trust him. He’s still Brian Kinney, and even with a sheepskin on him he’s still the wolf I met all those years ago.

 

“Yeah, the baby’s with me,” I reply. “Nancy brought her over.”

 

“Honey, I need to go. I’m meeting Michael in an hour. I just wanted to make sure you knew about Gus whereabouts. Take care of you, and that cute baby of yours.” 

 

“Thanks Deb, and bye.”

 

“Bye.” 

 

Cute baby of mine? I wish she was. Wish she was truly mine and not just Linds’ and Brian’s. I wish a lot of things, most of all, that the past weeks were nothing but a nightmare and that Linds is going to come through the door, smiling at me. That we will grow old together and watch our kids go to college and be happy. None of that will happen. Lindsay is gone. My life is a mess. And I’m stuck with Brian Kinney. 

 

I look at Sara and her huge eyes are still watching me steadily. I sigh. Picking up the phone, I use dial speed and wait to hear the familiar voice.

 

*****

 

“Daaaad.” 

 

“Mmmph.”

 

“Daaad.”

 

“G’way.”

 

“Juuuuustiiiin.”

 

Typical. Of course Brian’s not gonna wake up, and what happens. It’s up to me to entertain… “No, stop!” I screech, feeling a sloppy tongue licking over my face. Mick! I’ve almost forgotten about him. “Bad dog.” I try to sound firm, but am busy keeping that tongue from licking my face again. I like dogs, and I adore Mick, but having a wet doggy tongue on my lips first thing in the morning is not what I’m dreaming of. 

 

“Justin!” 

 

Turning my head I see Gus smiling at me happily. “Hey, Gus,” I say weakly.

 

He grins, and claps his hand, “I thought you were neeeeever gonna wake up.”

 

“Gus,” I look at the clock and groan, “its only eight.” We didn’t get into bed until five in the morning, and I’m not seventeen anymore. Then I could go nights without sleep, right now I feel as if my lids are too heavy to keep open.”

 

“It’s sooooo late,” Gus announces. Great. The short stuff is already running full speed. Brian grumbles something beside me and covers his head with another pillow. “Daaaad!” Gus stares at his father’s form with outrage. “I wanna play. You can’t go on sleeping.”

 

“Why don’t you and Mick play for a while?” I suggest, hoping to distract child *and* puppy for a while. Mick sits between my legs, his tongue lolling, his tail wagging madly. As much as I love him and Gus, I wish, just for this morning, they would disappear. 

 

“Gus.” 

 

I turn and see Brian’s head come up from underneath his pillow and is looking at us with bleary eyes. 

 

“Dad!”

 

“What the fu … I mean, why are you up?” 

 

His son grins, all innocence. “I wanna play. Where did Emmett go?”

 

Before Brian can answer the question, the phone rings, and Gus is gone from the bed like a bullet, Mick racing after him. Brian’s head falls back on the pillow and he groans, “What time is it?”

 

“Eight,” I reply, watching Gus picking up the phone, and looking at me. “Bring it to me, Gus.”

 

He comes back running, but instead of giving the phone to me, he presses it in his father’s hand. Brian needs a moment to understand what’s going on, then he presses the green button and raises it to his ear. “Yeah?” Wincing at the answer, he struggles to raise his upper body. “Mel … Mel … slow down. What? ... You did, what? … Yeah, Deb brought him over last night. Listen I didn’t …” I see surprise flicker through his eyes, and his brows come up. “You did? I see. … He’s fine. You wanna talk to him? Okay, here he comes.” He lowers the receiver and looks at Gus, “It’s your mom.”

 

Gus grabs the phone and grins, “Mom! … Emmett played with me the whole evening,” he tells her, and Brian winces again. No doubt he expects Mel to bring that one up again. 

 

“What happened?” I whisper, while Gus is chatting happily with his mother. 

 

“He loves the phone,” Brian answers my unspoken question. “When he was three he couldn’t get enough of it.” He shakes his head, still a little amazed. “As for your question, Mel’s … maybe the pills Deb mentioned did good, because she’s almost human.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

“She told me we could keep Gus for the day, and to get him home tonight, if there’s time. Or if we want, he can stay another night.” 

 

I blink, starting to understand his incredulous expression. “She – what?”

 

He shrugs, “Don’t ask me. I have no idea what’s going on. Maybe she had an epiphany, who knows. But whatever it was, it’s a lot better than the shit she’s been throwing at us these past weeks.”

 

“Sounds good,” I agree.

 

He grimaces at me, “Almost too good to be true. Well, fuck it,” he says, combing a hand through his hair that’s standing on end. “Sonnyboy?” he calls his son who’s just finished the call. “You wanna shower with your old man?”

 

“Yay!” Gus cries happily and races into the bathroom.

 

Brian groans and gives me a look. Before he climbs out of the bed, he leans over and kisses me sweetly, “Morning Sunshine.” His lips hover over mine for a moment, “Can you keep an eye on Mick?”

 

“Sure,” I make a shooing motion with my hand. “Have fun.”

 

“You’re evil,” he kisses me again. 

 

“But you love me anyway.” I grin when he rolls his eyes. 

 

“Make some coffee,” he says walking into the bathroom, making me regret that it will be Gus and not me in the shower with him. I suppose when he’s seventy I will still be staring at his fine ass and getting a hard-on. I’m pathetic, I know. But who the hell cares.

 

*****

 

I have to smile when I open the door and find my son, his lover, said lover’s son, and a dog in front of my door. “Look, who’s there. So many pretty men. And who’s this?” I bend down to pet the puppy. 

 

“That’s Mick,” Gus explains, grinning at me. 

 

“Is he your dog?” I ask, wondering for a moment if Justin will ever have a child like this one. Probably not. I never asked him how he felt about kids.

 

“Uh-uh,” Gus shakes his head, “he’s my Dad’s.” He looks up at Brian, who smiles down at his son. It’s a smile I’ve never seen before, and I wonder if it’s what my son saw that first night when he met Brian. He told me about their trip to the hospital to see Brian’s newborn son. Was it that smile he fell for so irrevocably?

 

“He kind of found me,” Brian explains, holding out a hand to me. “Hi, Jennifer. I hope we’re not interrupting anything?”

 

“No, nothing,” I shake my head and motion for them to step inside. “I’m happy to see you.” I smother a yawn, and smile, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” 

 

“Neither did we,” Justin says, hugging me for a moment. “Gus was up at eight.”

 

“I see,” I chuckle, remembering a time when Justin would wake us at six. “Can I get you something. Gus, would you like something to drink?” 

 

“Juice, please,” he replies politely, and I wonder who taught him that. Probably Lindsay. Mel doesn’t strike me as the type who would pay attention to something like manners. 

 

“Juice, coming right up,” I announce, walking towards the kitchen. “Something for the rest of you?” 

 

“I think Mick could do with some water”, Justin says, following me. The swinging door closes behind us and for the first time in days I’m alone with my son. “I can get it, I just need a bowl,” he tells me, rummaging through the cupboard to find one. “Where’s Mol?”

 

“With her father,” I reply, hoping he won’t be hurt by the answer. Ever since Brian re-appeared in Justin’s life, Craig has been absent. I can hardly believe that I once loved the man, that I thought him fit to be the father of my children. 

 

Justin fills the bowl, and, holding it in two hands, gives me a long look. “He never even tried to call me.”

 

“I know.” And I do. It’s just the sorry SOB Craig is these days. “I’m sorry.”

 

He sighs slightly, “Don’t be. I’m happy, Mom. I love him. I love him so much.”

 

I know it’s true. I know he’s happy being with Brian, but I still want to hurt Craig bad. “It’s still no excuse for your father’s behavior.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” he smiles at me, but his eyes are sad. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine. Brian’s wonderful.”

 

“He loves you.” Oddly, I don’t have to ask. I know Brian loves my son. 

 

“He does.” Justin nods, and his smile widens, reaching his eyes now. “He’s great. Even though he’s had a lot of shit thrown his way, he’s still … I can hardly believe how much he’s changed.”

 

I see it, too. It’s hard to believe Brian is still the same person I first saw at the GLC. There’s still twelve years between them, but strangely it doesn’t bother me anymore. Maybe it’s because Brian’s been the only one to see that something was wrong with my son. Or the way he gave me the money I owed Hollis without comment. Who knows? “He and Gus seem close.”

 

“They are,” Justin replies enthusiastically. “Oh, Mom, you should see them together. They love each other so much. And to have Mel threatening to take Gus away. She’s such a bitch!”

 

I sigh, “She was definitely unstable when I saw her last. Maybe … maybe the children would be better with you and Brian for a while.”

 

“Maybe.” My son doesn’t seem so sure. “But Mel loves them, too. She might not act on it right now, but I know she loves them.”

 

“How’s Joan?” I ask. I tried to call the hospital, but not being family, they wouldn’t tell me anything.

 

“Brian called just before we left. She’s still sleeping, but she’s not in a coma anymore. She’ll be okay.”

 

Relieved I let out a breath, “That’s great news. Maybe I could go and see her tomorrow.”

 

Justin shrugs, “If you want.”

 

I reach out and squeeze his arm, “She was trying, honey. I saw it myself. It’s hard for her too.”

 

Again he shrugs, “Fine. I believe you. But she’s done horrible things to him. And despite all, he feels good today. Mel told him Gus could stay for the day. So, please don’t ruin it for him by bringing up his mother.”

 

“I won’t,” I promise. 

 

“Good.” He smiles and turns back to the door. 

 

I pour a glass of juice and Justin and I walk back into the hall, where Brian and Gus are laughing as Mick is jumping in circles because of a fly that’s managed to get inside. “Here you go,” I hand the glass to Gus, who takes it eagerly. 

 

He raises it to his lips, then catches his father’s gaze and gulps. Lowering it again, he turns to me, “Thanks,” he says, before sipping slowly. 

 

Surprised, my eyes fly to Brian who winks at me. “So,” he smiles, “Jennifer. We were thinking about going to the zoo today. Are you up for it?”

 

Equally surprised, I stare at him, “Me?”

 

He shrugs, but the smile never wavers, “I thought it was time for Gus to get to know his other grand-mother a little better.”

 

“G-grandmother,” I stutter. What is going on here? Something I don’t understand. My gaze flies to Justin, but he seems equally speechless, staring at Brian with wide, blue eyes.

 

“Brian?” his voice is a little breathless.

 

“Well,” the older man says, his eyes twinkling, “how would you suggest Gus call the mother of his other dad?”

 

“D-dad?”

 

Clearly Justin wasn’t expecting this. But I can see that he’s happy. Thrilled, actually. “Brian.” His voice is so soft, so full of happiness, I feel my eyes tear. 

 

Brian frowns a little and clears his throat, and amazed I see his eyes are misty as well. “That is,” he clears his throat again, “if you want.” 

 

“Want?” Justin’s voice is a mere whisper. “Want?” he asks again. “Of course I want. Oh, how I want.” Not caring for anything or anyone he throws his arms around Brian and they kiss. It’s the most beautiful kiss I’ve ever seen in my life, and I can’t believe there were times when the thought of Justin with another man caused me a sleepless night. 

 

Completely caught up in the scene before me, I only now realize that someone is pulling at my sleeve. 

 

“Grandma?”

 

It’s Gus, who is looking at me with an expression that’s half impatience and half disgust. “Can we go to the zoo now?” he asks. 

 

“We will. Just a moment, honey.” Oh yes, I could get used to see this beautiful little boy as my grand-child. No problem at all.

 

He rolls his eyes, and I have to suppress a grin. “They’re kissing again.”

 

“Do they kiss a lot?” I just had to ask *that* question.

 

“Uh-huh,” he nods, shooting the two mean another look of disgust. “Aaaaalll the time.”

 

I grin, feeling lighthearted and happy. Does Craig even realize how much he misses? Well, that’s his problem. “What do you think. I have some cookies in the kitchen. Do you want some? You can eat them, and finish your juice and then we’ll go.”

 

Again his eyes flicker to Justin and Brian who seem locked at their lips. “’kay,” he says on a heavy sigh. This time the laughter bursts out. 

 

I hold out my hand to the boy, “Let’s go, Gus.”

 

He puts his hand in mine. It’s small, and warm, and it reminds me of Justin’s when he was Gus’ age. Before the door swings shut behind us, I turn my head and see my son and Brian looking at each other and smiling. It’s the most beautiful sight in this world.


	20. Wild Shores

Gus is asleep on Justin’s shoulder, and Mick’s tongue almost touches the ground, when we return to the loft around four in the afternoon. I would never say it aloud, but we had the most fabulous day. Justin didn’t stop beaming the whole time and Jennifer was giving me those glances that – only a few years ago – would’ve made me running. Today, however, I almost felt elated whenever I caught her gazing at me in that mother-in-law way. You know, as if she was checking me out, if I was good enough for her precious son. Obviously I must have passed her mustering because when we drove her home, she was chatting happily with Gus, and when he called her Grandma the smile almost split her face.

 

After depositing a fully clothed Gus on the middle of the unmade bed, Justin returned into the kitchen where I’d already poured us two glasses of juice. “Here,” I hold one out to him. He takes it with a grateful smile and gulps it down in one. “Someone was all dried out,” I comment.

 

“Man, taking a kid to the zoo can be exhausting,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his left hand. 

 

“What am I supposed to say, I’m twelve years your senior?” I grin when I see the incredulous expression on his face. “What?”

 

“I never thought I’d live to hear you say something like that. Brian Kinney admitting he is getting older. I should probably mark the day red.”

 

I give him a soft punch to his shoulder, “Cut it out, Sunshine. But you’re right. At least he’s out for the moment.”

 

“You can say that,” Justin confirms with a grin. “He didn’t even so much as mumble. Just continued sleeping like the dead. But I think he had a great day.”

 

“The best,” I agree, feeling all warm at the memory of my son’s ready smile and the excitement in his eyes. “I always want him to be happy.” The next moment, I feel Justin’s arms slipping around my neck, and he kisses me softly on the lips. “What was that for?” I ask.

 

“Does there have to be a reason?”

 

His smile is very gentle, very … loving. When we first sort of got together, I would’ve shoved him away. Now, I bask in it. “Not that I know of,” I reply, kissing him back. He’s so warm and alive in my arms, and for a moment I’m back in that parking garage, holding his bloody, unconscious form, but I shake the image off. It’s been so long ago, and today is not the day to remember. We’ve been happy and content, and for a few hours I managed to keep all my demons at bay. 

 

“Hmmmm,” he says and licks his lips when the kiss ends. “I can still taste the ice cream.”

 

“I still can’t believe you made me eat that,” I tell him, wondering what else he’s going to change in my life. Not that I mind. Strangely enough, I don’t mind at all. 

 

“It won’t hurt you,” he tightens his hold on me. “You’re still too thin.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Are too,” he insists and kisses me again. “But I don’t mind. I like you just the way you are.”

 

“You realize that the dog just went to sleep on the bed,” I tell him, having watched Mick from the corner of my eye. He jumped on the bed and is now curled up next to Gus. It’s a beautiful picture, dog and child, both tired and happy.

 

“Are we gonna keep Gus for another night?”

 

“Do you mind?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Justin never minds. He loves Gus. 

 

“I think it’s great. I could get used to having him around. Maybe we could get both kids for a weekend soon,” he suggests. 

 

“Don’t get your hopes too high. I’m still not trusting Mel.” After the stunts she pulled, I’m not sure what to think of this latest development. It was mostly due to Linds that we managed not to be at each others throats all the time, and still we more than once came to blows. I sometimes wonder if we’re just too much alike. Shuddering at the thought, I quickly shove if away, and concentrate on the man in my arms instead. “But I think it’s a great idea. I’d like to have them over.”

 

“Great!” He smiles, and we kiss. It’s probably all we’re going to do as long as Gus is around. 

 

“You know,” I say, pulling him towards the couch, “what do you think about redecorating the loft?”

 

“Redecorating?”

 

“Maybe not really redecorating. But we really should think about having a room for Gus when he stays over.”

 

A grin appears on Justin’s face. “Oh.”

 

“Smartass.” I slap said part of his body and he yelps. 

 

“I have you know that abstinence isn’t healthy.” God, I can’t believe we’re playfully bickering like newlyweds. Jesus Fucking Christ! 

 

“He’s asleep,” Justin whispers, starting to play with the buttons of my shirt. “And I can be really, really quiet.”

 

My right brow goes up, “Can you now?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Think we can risk it?”

 

“We can try.”

 

“Let’s.”

 

“Yeah. Let’s.”

 

*****

 

I look up when the door opens, wondering if it might be Brian coming to see his mother. But it’s a strange woman, one I haven’t seen before. She seems a little surprised to find me here, but then she smiles and nods. “You must be Reverend Tom. I’m Jennifer. Jennifer Taylor.”

 

Ah. Justin’s mother. Friendly face, nice eyes. “Nice to meet you,” I nod as well.

 

“I hope I’m not disturbing anything,” she says, shedding her coat, and depositing her handbag on the chair. “I thought about coming tomorrow, then thought why wait. How is she?”

 

“She woke up about an hour ago. But she was very disoriented, and I’m not sure she even recognized me.” I pause, not sure how much to reveal to this woman. But she is Justin’s mother. So maybe … “She asked for Brian.”

 

Jennifer doesn’t seem surprised, and pulls another free chair to the bed to sit down across from me. “I spent the day with him and my son. He called the hospital in the morning.”

 

So he didn’t forget about his mother completely. I know, I have no right to judge, and I also know that Joan has done wrong, but it pains me to see two people who so desperately want to be loved but can’t trust anymore. “I’m glad,” I say quietly. “I think he needs her more than she needs him.”

 

Jennifer Taylor smiles at that, “You could be right. But they need to resolve their … issues on their own. We all don’t know what really happened between those two. Even Justin only knows bits and pieces. Brian is very closed up where his mother is concerned.”

 

“B-brian?” 

 

Joan’s voice is almost inaudible, but I can still understand what she wants. I squeeze her hand, “Brian is not here, Joan. But he called earlier today.”

 

“He won’t come,” she says, talking to nobody in particular. Her eyes are closed, and her hand in mine seems almost lifeless. “I made him hate me again.”

 

“No. Joan, he doesn’t hate you.”

 

“He does. He does,” she insists, a tear coming from between closed lids, and running down her cheek. “I don’t blame him. I’m a horrible mother.”

 

“Joan,” Jennifer touches Joan’s other shoulder. “It’s me, Jennifer.”

 

“Jennifer. N-nice of y-you to come. I’m … I’m so tired.”

 

“Then sleep,” Mrs. Taylor whispers, stroking the shoulder gently. “Sleep and get well again.”

 

“Well …” The word is said on an exhale, then the deep breaths tell us Joan is asleep again. 

 

“She must be very exhausted,” Jennifer comments, her hand still resting on Joan’s shoulder. “I still have a hard time believing she tried to take her own life.”

 

“I don’t think she really wanted to do that.” I smile when she looks at me. “It was a cry for help. At least that’s what I want to believe.”

 

“She talks about you a lot.” Mrs. Taylor’s blue eyes – so much like those of her son – seem to scrutinize me. “You are very important for her. Do you think that’s a good thing?” 

 

A little stunned, I frown, “What do you mean?”

 

“Because she has you, she doesn’t really need to reconcile with her son.” 

 

She delivers the words soft and without accusation, but they still hit me hard. It can’t be true, can it? Her son hasn’t shown any indication that he’s interested in a reconciliation. Besides, it’s my job to take care of those who seek my help. That’s why I became what I am today, denying my very nature, to help others, to ease their pain. 

 

“I’m sorry if I’m a little blunt, but whenever Joan talks about you, I get the impression that you are the son she always wanted. It’s very hard for Brian to live up to that perfect image.”

 

Feeling unsettled, I let go of Joan’s hand and walk to the window, staring out into the falling darkness. “I never … tried…”

 

“Didn’t you?” she asks. “Joan told me you and your mother aren’t close.”

 

“No, we … But I still can’t see … No, you’re wrong.” God, please, let her be wrong. But a little voice in my head whispers that she might be right, that there might be a grain of truth in what she’s saying. 

 

I hear rustling behind me and turn back around to find her pulling on her coat, and picking up her purse. “Think about it, Reverend. Please, don’t think I’m blaming you. Because I don’t. But Brian … even though he likes to deny it … is hurting because he and his mother don’t really talk with each other. And Joan is, too. Deep down, you can never be her son.” She gives me a smile, and opens the door, but before she leaves, she looks at me again, “Just ask yourself a question. You’re here all the time, it seems. Would you do that for any other member of your community?”

 

With that she’s gone, leaving me speechless and confused, and wondering if I’m really the kind of man I always wanted to be.

 

*****

 

“Mel?” 

 

Ted is clearly surprised to see me, and I can’t really blame him. After all I could’ve called before turning up on his doorstep. “Hey, Teddy. Can I come in for a moment.”

 

Recovering from the surprise, he nods, “Sure, sure. Come in. Is there anything I can do for you?” His eyes fall on the baby in the carrier and he croons, “Look who’s here. The baby-girl.”

 

“Sara,” I tell him, managing not to wince. “Her name is Sara.”

 

“Sara,” he nods, and I’m glad he doesn’t know it wasn’t me who chose the name. “She’s beautiful.”

 

“Yeah,” I agree. And she is. “I’m on my way to get Gus from Brian, and I thought I’d skip by.”

 

“He is with Brian?” Clearly he hasn’t expected to hear that.

 

Frowning a little, I bite my lower lip, “I … had a bad day the day before yesterday. Debbie came by and took Gus to Brian. Anyway … I took a week off and now Sara and I will get Gus for a family day.”

 

“Sound great,” he replies, still looking at the baby. Finally tearing his eyes away, he ask, “What can I do for you?”

 

“Remember when you offered to give me some money? Is the offer still open?”


	21. Wild Shores

“You know, I could get used to this,” Justin says a few days later. It’s almost ten and we’re lying on the bed, still relaxed and sated in the afterglow of another great fucking session. I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me years ago, but being monogamous with one person can be extremely satisfying. Strangely enough, I don’t miss the tricks. Not that Justin and I decided to be monogamous or anything. We didn’t even talk about it. And I won’t promise anything, but for now I can’t see myself with anybody else. It’s an odd, but good feeling. 

 

“What? Doing nothing the whole day long?” I joke, and let out a yelp when his flat palm lands on my stomach with a smack. 

 

“I have you know that I worked for hours and hours.” 

 

I have to snicker at the pout I hear in his voice. “Oh please. Doing a little coloring is called work these days?”

 

“As if you were so busy this week,” he snorts. 

 

“I acquired a new account,” I inform him, leaning over and breathing a kiss on his naked shoulder. “It’s a European firm who wants to get a foot into the American market.” Will we ever tire of this after-bliss, I wonder? I hope not. 

 

“Where from?”

 

“Italy. Near Siena in Tuscany.”

 

“Sienna?”

 

“Signore Tognioni called it Siena. With one “n”.”

 

“Ah,” he sighs, and I turn my head to look at him. 

 

“What?”

 

“You realize that Tuscany is full of art, right? I always wanted to go there.” He sighs again, “What kind of stuff are they making?”

 

“They have organic farms. For wine, olive oil, practically everything you can grow. It’s high quality food for those earning a good income.”

 

He snickers a little at that, “You mean people like you.”

 

“A lot of them are certainly in my age bracket,” I agree. Pausing for good measure, I deliberately sound bored, when I add, “I told him in order to do his products credit, I had to come and take a look what he is talking about.”

 

One. Two. Three. Four.

 

“WHAT?”

 

Bingo. 

 

“Does that mean you’re planning to go to Tuscany?”

 

Keeping a straight face, I look into his excited one. “Wow, those 1500 really show sometimes. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner.”

 

“You shit!” With those two words he straddles me, his hands pinning my arms to the mattress. “When are we going?”

 

I look at him for a long moment, then let my right brow go up, “We?”

 

I can almost see the light fade from his eyes, and his face falls. “You’re going on your own?”

 

Am I really such a shit? Maybe I am, but this is just so much fun. “Well, that depends.”

 

His eyes light up again, “Depends on what?” He kisses me, “I’ll be good. I swear.”

 

That does it. I’m not able to keep it up anymore, and a grin creeps up my face. “Of course you’re coming with me. I never planned going on my own, Justin.”

 

Outrage and excitement battle on his face for a moment, then he hits me on the shoulder, “Asshole.” 

 

“But your asshole.”

 

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, my asshole.”

 

*****

 

“You want some more, honey?”

 

I smile at Debbie, and push the cup over, “Yes, thanks.” She refills it with the diner’s not so bad coffee and returns my smile over the counter. “I wonder what is keeping them?”

 

“Are you waiting for someone?” 

 

I nod, “Teddy and Michael. We’re supposed to meet here.”

 

“Michael?” She’s clearly surprised to hear it, then sighs. “Oh well, he’s old enough to have his own life.”

 

We both chuckle at that, and we both know that Michael will never outgrow the stage where his mother is part of his life. Not that it is a bad thing. I sometimes wish my mother was still here, even though I don’t know how she would take the fact that her baby boy is sucking hot, hot cock. But on the other hand, Debbie can be kind of overbearing sometimes. 

 

“What are you boys planning?”

 

“Trying to fish for information, Ma?” Michael leans over the counter to peck his mother on the cheek, then grins at me. “Don’t you think it’s time for her to get laid?”

 

“Michael Novotny!” Debbie cries in outrage. 

 

He shrugs, his grin widening. “It’s true.”

 

Debbie huffs, “Even if it was. That’s no way to talk about your mother. Show a little respect.” 

 

“Teddy still not here?” he asks, obviously deciding to ignore his mother for once. 

 

“No,” I reply, gazing at the door with a frown. It’s not like Ted to be late. He’s usually the most punctual guy around. “Do we still have time?”

 

Michael glances at the clock, “Sure. No problem. They’re open ‘til six, so we have the whole afternoon.”

 

“What is all this about?” Debbie asks.

 

Ted saves Michael from answering as he chooses that very same moment to enter the diner. “Sorry to be late, but something happened.” Only now I notice his disheveled hair, the shirt that’s buttoned up wrong.”

 

“Someone looks all fucked out,” Michael comments with a snort.

 

“Don’t I wish,” Ted says, running his fingers through his hair. “Unfortunately it had nothing to do with fucking. It seems these days all I do is watch my guys jerk off.”

 

“I can’t see where that is a bad thing,” I quip, taking a sip from my coffee. Grinning inwardly when Ted snorts at that, I look at him, “So, what took you so long?” His face is instantly serious, and I’m alarmed when I see he’s starting to develop a sudden interest in his shoelaces. “Teddy?”

 

“I … I think I might have done something stupid,” he admits after a moment. 

 

“Don’t tell me you fucked someone without a condom again?” Michael asks incredulously.

 

Ted’s head comes up and he glares at his friend, “Is that all you can think about? No, I didn’t fuck anyone without a condom. But I … oh, hell, I offered Mel to help her with money if she should need it.”

 

Puzzled, I ask, “And?”

 

He takes a deep breath, “And, she came to me a few days ago and took me up on my offer. Last night I tried to call her. But all I got was the woman who cleans the house.”

 

“So?” I still have problems to follow him.

 

“She wasn’t there.”

 

“When did you call her?” Deb wants to know.

 

“Around six,” he tells her.

 

Deb shrugs, “Maybe she was out with the kids.” I have to agree. Mel not being at home at six doesn’t really strike me as odd. 

 

“Well,” Ted once again rakes his fingers through his hair, “I’ve been trying to contact her ever since.”

 

“Why?” Michael asks, clearly not getting it either. 

 

Ted looks first at him, then at Debbie and finally his eyes come to rest on me, “The woman on the phone told me that Miss Marcus had left town. And she has withdrawn all the money I made available for her.”

 

*****

 

“This better be damn good,” is the first thing Brian says when he sees Ted, Emmett and Michael all standing in front of our door. We came home for lunch and ended up on the couch and where about to lose our clothes when the buzzer interrupted us.

 

“Sorry, but it might be bad,” Ted announces and without waiting for an invitation moves past Brian – something I’ve never seen before – and enters the loft, Michael and Emmett on his heels. Mick does his little dance of excitement, the way he always does when visitors drop by, but everyone ignores him. Not even Emmett has time to bend down and scratch the puppy’s head. It instantly has all my alarm bells ringing.

 

“Did something happen?” Not bothering to button my shirt I join the others who are still standing near the door. 

 

“Maybe,” Michael says, rubbing his nose. Uh-oh. Not a good sign. 

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Brian looks as he might explode any moment now, and if I wasn’t so concerned, I’d be grinning. He was really hot just a few minutes ago, and interrupting Brian in the process of fucking is never a good thing. 

 

Ted shuffles his feet and at Emmett’s nudge he starts to tell us a story about offering Mel money – which we knew already – but the news is that he can’t get a hold on her, and that the cleaning lady told him Mel has left town.

 

Brian frowns as soon as Ted is done, and shakes his head, “Mel took the week off. She told me so herself when she picked up Gus on Monday. Maybe she and kids went away for a short trip or something.”

 

“Didn’t the cleaning lady know where she went?” I ask, putting what I hope is a comforting hand on Brian’s arm. He lets out a long breath at the contact, but seems to calm down a little. 

 

“No,” Ted shakes his head. “I … just have a bad feeling.”

 

“Theodore, you were born with a bad feeling,” Brain snorts, but the comment lacks the usual scorn. “What do you think?” 

 

He looks at me, and I’m not sure what to say. “I dunno. Maybe she really just went on a short holiday.”

 

“Yeah,” he nods, and starts to pace the room. “Fuck! Just what I need.” Raking his fingers through his hair, he turns back to me, “Can you take the afternoon off?”

 

“Sure. It’s my studio, my painting. Why?” 

 

“Because I need to check this out. I don’t like this. I don’t like it one bit.”

 

*****

 

“Here you go, Miss Marcus. Row 21, seats a to c are all reserved for you,” the flight attendant tells me with a smile. “If you need anything for the baby, just ask.” With that she turns away to take care of the other passengers. I shoo Gus inside, hoping the seat at the window will distract him for a while. He’s been fuzzy the whole night. Well, no surprise there. He’s never been in a hotel before.

 

“When will we see Dad?”

 

Jesus! Will he stop asking that stupid question already. “Soon, sweetie.” The lie slips easily from my lips. Not in this life, if I can help it. And I’m sure when times passes he will soon enough forget all about Brian Fucking Kinney.

 

“Wow, this plane is a lot bigger than the one we were in yesterday,” Gus says. A glance at Sara assures me that at least one of the kids is not going to bother me for now. The headache is getting worse again and I search my purse for another pill. “Sorry,” I stop another flight attendant as she passes our row. She smiles and I nod at the baby, “I need a bit of water for her. Is that possible?” God, I’ve become a first class liar.

 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she promises and hurries towards the front of the plane.

 

“The houses are huge, aren’t they mom?”

 

“Gus,” I hiss at him, the pounding in my head almost unbearable now, “please be quiet for a while.” 

 

His face scrunches up and a frown appears on his face. “Are you mad, Mom?” 

 

I close my eyes, hating the wariness in my son’s voice, the slight tremble in the end. I’m a horrible mother, but this headache’s killing me. 

 

“Ma’am.” 

 

I open my eyes and gratefully accept the bottle of water the attendant hands over to me. I swallow the pill quickly, then decide to take a second one for good measure. Taking a breath of relief, I rub my forehead and put the bottle on the floor. Gus is still watching me, but I decide to ignore him. I just can’t deal with his questions right now. 

 

The same moment the light starts to blink above our heads, signaling that we have to fasten our seatbelts, and the voice of captain sounds through the cabin. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome on board. This is captain Larsson speaking. It seems we’re going to have a smooth flight to Paris …


End file.
